POEMS. 


EMILY  SEAVER. 


"  IF  ever  floating  from  faint  earthly  lyre, 
Was  wafted  to  your  soul  one  faint  desire, 

By  all  the  trembling  hopes  ye  feel 
Think  on  the  minstrel  as  ye  kneel ; 

And  let  your  prayer  for  charity  arise 

That  her  own  heart  may  hear  her  melodies, 

And  a  true  voice  to  her  may  cry 

'  Thy  God  forgives, — thou  shaltnot  die.'  ' 

KEBLH 


BOSTON : 
A.  WILLIAMS  &  CO. 

283     WASHINGTON    STREET. 


Entered  according  to  act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1878,  by 

EMILY  SEAVER, 
In  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


Printed  and  bound  by 

:JBI2SXJ  COMPANY. 
*N.  B.    *V- 


£0  mg  JElotljer. 


M  9520 


©Ije  Christian  gear. 

FT1HROUGH  danger,  doubt  and  sickening  fear, 
JL    One  guiding  clue  the  Church  retains,  at  least ; 
She  sees  her  LORD  through  all  the  changing  year, 
And  follows  Him,  in  vigil,  fast,  and  feast. 

We  have  not  handled  of  the  Living  Word, 
Our  eyes  have  never  seen  His  human  form, 

Our  ears  His  loving  voice  have  never  heard, 
He  has  not  stilled,  for  us,  life's  bitter  storm. 

We  only  know  a  Man  Divine  has  trod 

This  weary  earth,  has  suffered  here,  and  died  ; 

And  we  believe  that,  rising  from  the  sod, 
We  shall  behold  Him,  living,  glorified ! 

Sometimes  we  almost  feel  His  loving  hand, 
Sometimes  we  almost  hear  His  tender  voice, 

The  cloudy  pillar  leads  us  through  the  land, 
Like  earth  at  touch  of  Spring  our  hearts  rejoice. 


6  THE    CHRISTIAN    YEAR. 

Then  come  the  winter,  and  the  dark,  cold  night, 
And  Faith  and  Hope  give  place  to  doubt  and 

fear: 

Happy  -the  soul  that  the.a  perceives  the  light 
That  shines,  for  us,  through  all  the  Christian 
Year; 

The  heavenly  light,  that  drops  from  Christmas 
skies, 

As  once  of  old,  on  Bethlehem's  peaceful  plain  ; 
The  starry  light  that  blest  the  sages'  eyes, 

And  led  them  where  their  infant  King  was  lain  ; 

The  sad,  pale  light,  Gethsemane,  that  gleamed 
Upon  thine  hoary,  ancient  olive  shade  ; 

The   awful    light    that   through    the    darkness 

beamed, 
When,  for  our  sins,  the  ransom  price  was  paid ; 

The  golden  light  that  filled  the  eastern  skies, 
And  waked  each  little  bird  to  joyful  strains, 

On  that  glad  morn  that  saw^  the  LORD  arise, 
And  break,  forevermore,  Death's  cruel  chains; 

The  tender  glory  of  the  noonday  light, 

When,  ere  our  SAVIOUR  did  to  Heaven  ascend, 

He  blest  His  chosen,  on  the  mountain  height, 
Saying,  Lo !  I  am  with  you  to  the  end  ; 


THE    CHRISTIAN    YEAR.  7 

And  from  that  day  the  Church  has  ever  kept 
The  way-marks  of  His  holy,  blessed  life ; 

Age  after  age  His  saints  with  Him  have  wept, 
And  shared  His  triumph  in  the  bitter  strife. 

And  as  we  trace  again,  thus,  year  by  year, 
The  story  of  the  manger,  cross  and  throne, 

The  LORD  Himself  does  to  our  souls  draw  near, 
And  all  our  coldness  and  our  doubts  are  flown, 

Thus,  while  the  Church  the  wilderness  must  tread, 
Still  bears  she  witness  to  her  absent  King; 

Not  with  cold  doctrines  are  her  children  fed, 
But  to  the  living  CHRIST  she  bids  them  cling. 


ADVENT. 


The  Church,  the  pillar  and  ground  of  the  truth,     i  Tim.  iii.  15. 

AMID  a  thousand  voices  wild, 
Which  is  the  false,  and  which  the  true  ? 
By  fear  and  hope,  alike,  beguiled, 
We  stumble  in  these  pathways  new. 

Hark  !   to  one  voice,  that,  sweet  and  clear 
Rings  out  through  every  age  the  same  ; 

The  Church,  that  each  returning  year 
Calls  by  her  absent  Master's  name. 

"What  old  and  threadbare  myths  are  these? 

The  world  needs  doctrines  new  and  fresh." 
She  calls  her  children  to  her  knees, 

With  that  old  tale  —  the  Word  made  flesh. 

"  Oh,  for  some  guide  to  lead  aright 
Our  footsteps  to  our  Father's  home  !" 

Rejoicing  in  December's  night, 

She  sings  The  SON  OF  GOD  has  come  ! 

"  Oh,  might  some  Man  divine  arise 
To  free  us  from  sin's  weary  load  !" 

She  spreads  the  Feast  of  Sacrifice, 
And  cries,  Behold  the  LAMB  OF  GOD  ! 


ADVENT. 

Thus  bears  she  witness  to  her  LORD, 
Unchanged,  unmoved,  whatever  betide, 

Still  holding  forth  the  LIVING  WORD, 
If  men  will  hear  or  will  deride. 

Then  wake  from  sleep,  and  in  the  faith 
Which  we  from  her  dear  lips  receive, 

Let  us  show  forth,  in  life  and  death, 
That  in  her  LORD  we  do  believe. 


10  THE    PRISONERS    OF   HOPE. 


prisorgrs  of 


Where  is  the  promise  of  His  coming?    and  Peter,  iii-  4. 
Turn  ye  to  the  stronghold,  ye  prisoners  of  hope.     Zech.  ix,  12. 


"  TITHEKE  is  the  promise  ?"— weary 
V  ?         With  conflict,  toil  and  pain, 
The  Church,  through  all  the  ages, 

This  question  asks  in  vain ; 
Yet  only  they,  victorious, 

Shall  with  the  foeman  cope, 
Who  turn  them  to  this  stronghold, 
The  prisoners  of  hope! 

Long  since  the  war  had  ended, 

And  the  gates  of  hell  prevailed, 
And  the  banner  of  salvation 

Low  in  the  dust  had  trailed, — 
But  that  the  hope  grew  stronger 

With  every  battle  past, 
And  every  generation 

Hoped  it  might  be  the  last. 


THE    PR  SONERS    OF    HOPE.  11 

The  souls  beneath  the  altar, 

That  now  cry,  "LORD,  how  long !" 
When  in  the  flesh  they  suffered 

Were  by  this  hope  made  strong  ; 
And  in  the  darkest  ages 

Of  superstition's  night, 
They  waited  for  His  coining 

As  for  the  morning  light ! 


And  now  we  bear  the  burden, 

To  us  the  strife  has  passed, 
And  still  the  hope  grows  stronger 

That  ours  shall  be  the  last. 
There  are  signs  in  earth  and  heaven, 

As  once  the  LORD  foretold, 
And  the  whisper  of  His  coming 

Makes  even  the  weakest  bold  ! 


Then  sound  the  Advent  trumpet; 

Call  each  man  to  his  post, 
To  greet  the  King,  Who  cometh 

With  all  His  angel  host ! 
And  they,  with  songs  triumphant, 

Shall  march  up  Zion's  slope, 
Whose  trust  was  in  this  stronghold, 

The  prisoners  of  hope ! 


12      THE  WISDOM  OF  THIS  WORLD. 


of  tl)is  roorlb. 

St.  Matt.  iii.  4,  5. 


AH,  yes!  the  lawyers  and  the  scribes 
The  Scriptures  knew  full  well ; 
And  where,  and  when,  the  CHRIST  should  come, 
They  could  most  surely  tell. 

"In  David's  city,  Bethlehem," 

(Thus  they  the  prophets  read), 
"  A  child  shall  rise,  of  David's  line, 

And  to  his  throne  succeed." 

Wise  brains  and  stupid  hearts  !   no  joy 

To  them  the  tidings  bring; 
Nor  go  they  forth  to  Bethlehem 

To  hail  their  new-born  King. 

Content  in  Herod's  court  to  dwell, 

And  fawn  upon  his  word, 
No  angel  songs  salute  their  ears, 

Proclaiming,  CHRIST  the  LORD  ! 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THIS  WOULD.     13 

Their  eyes,  with  midnight  study  dim, 

Perceive  not  Judah's  Star, 
Guiding,  with  pure  and  holy  light, 

The  wise  men  from  afar. 

LORD,  we  Thy  vigil  keep  to-night, 

Beneath  the  midnight  sky ; 
May  we  not  own  Thee  with  our  lips, 

And  in  our  hearts  deny  ! 

The  simple,  loving,  child-like  faith 

Vouchsafe  us  evermore, 
To  seek  Thee  where  Thou  mayst  be  found, 

And  finding,  to  adore ! 


14  THE   EPIPHANY    STAR. 


Star. 


OF  old,  the  wise  men,  from  afar, 
Made  haste  the  new-born  King  to  hail, 
Their  only  guide  the  eastern  Star 

O'er  mountain  steep,  through  lonely  vale. 

So,  LORD,  Thy  Church,  in  pilgrim  guise, 
Is  traveling  on,  her  King  to  meet: 

Oh,  bid  the  star  of  Faith  arise, 

When  shadows  gather  round  her  feet. 

Though  loudly  howl  the  winds  of  night, 
And  thronging  crowd  the  shapes  of  ill, 

Her  face  turned  to  that  heavenly  light, 
She  presses  on  to  Zion's  Hill. 

And  when  her  skies  are  warm  and  bright, 
Let  not  the  sun,  with  noon-day  glare, 

Have  power  to  quench  that  guiding  light; 
Still  may  it  shine  divinely  fair  ! 


THE   EPIPHANY   STAR.  15 

But  some  have  sought  a  path,  and  failed  ; 

In  doubt  and  fear  how  long  they  roam  ; 
For  them  the  lights  of  earth  have  paled, 

Have  pity,  LOUD,  and  lead  them  home. 

Oh,  from  Thy  throne,  where  light  has  birth 

la  glory  that  no  eye  can  bear, 
If  one  faint  ray  shall  reach  the  earth, 

Its  beams  shall  lighten  their  despair. 

Then  let  it  shine,  a  kindly  star, 
To  light  them  on  their  desert  road, 

To  lead  them  to  their  home,  afar, 

Their  home  within  the  light  of  GOD  ! 


16  CHRIST   IN    TH      TEMPLE. 

<2EI)ri0t  in  tlje  QLemyle. 

"  And  they  sought  Him  among  their  kinsfolk  and  acquaintance." 

T1JHERE  is  the  CHRIST  ?  Our  longing  hearts 
IT  are  aching 

With  grief  and  doubt,  and  with  unspoken  dread, 
Our  kindred  and  companions  all  forsaking, 

We  search  the  city  through  with  weary  tread. 

Where  have  ye  sought  him  ?    In  the  market 

places, 
Where  crowd  thj  insatiate  throngs,  athirst  for 

gain; 

But  when  we  asked  for  Him,  with  scornful  faces 
They  told  us — there  our  search  was  all  in  vain. 

Where  have  ye  sought  Him  ?    Where  the  gates 
inviting 

Of  Herod's  gorgeous  courts  were  open  wide; 
We  looked  within,  our  very  soul  delighting, 

The  meek  and  lowly  doth  not  there  abide ! 

Where  have  you  sought  him  ?    In  the  groves  of 


'Mid  the  philosophers  of  Rome  and  Greece  ; — 
Their  brows  are  heavy  with  the  lore  of  ages, 
But  for  our  souls  they  had  no  word  of  peace. 


CHRIST   IN   THE   TEMPLE.  17 

Seek  ye  the  LORD,  within  His  Temple  holy, 
Whom  ye  have  sought  so  long,  in  wanderings 

blind, 
Who  seek  Him  there,  with  contrite  hearts  and 

lowly, 
The  long-desired  shall  never  fail  to  find. 

Kneel    there,    your    sorrows    and    your    doubt 

confessing, 
And  though  He  say,  Why  elsewhere  sought 

ye  Me? 

Yet  with  reproof  shall  still  be  mingled  blessing, 
And  peace  undoubting  shall  your  portion  be. 

But  ye  must  go,  not  always  there  abiding, 
And  lift,  again,  the  load  of  care  and  strife  ; 

Lo !    He   goes,    too,   your   homeward    footsteps 

guiding, 
And  shares  with  you  the  daily  tasks  of  life ! 


1 8  ASH-WEDNESDAY. 


OF  those  who  hailed  the  SAVIOUR'S  birth 
With  festive  cheer  and  song, 
Glory  to  GOD,  and  peace  on  earth, 
Where  is  the  countless  throng  ? 

For  now  the  Church  her  children  calls 

Their  suffering  LORD  to  see  ; 
And  on  each  ear  the  whisper  falls, 

Canst  thou  not  watch  with  me  ? 

Alas !  how  few,  who  lift  the  lay 

To  hail  the  Virgin-born, 
Can  bear  with  Him  to  watch  and  pray, 

Forsaken  and  forlorn. 

Yet  only  they  who  follow  Him 

Even  in  the  wilderness, 
And  when  His  glory  waxes  dim 

Still  nearer,  closer  press  ; — 

Who  follow  on,  where,  day  by  day, 

His  patient  steps  they  see, 
Nor  fear  to  tread  the  bitter  way 

That  ends  at  Calvary, — 


ASH-WEDNESDAY.  19 

They,  only,  when  the  shadows  flee 

Before  the  Easter  light, 
The  risen  LORD  and  SAVIOUR  see, 

Who  conquers  Death  and  night. 

This  holy  season,  LORD,  may  we 

To-day,  aright  begin  ; 
Each  day  more  humble  may  we  be, 

More  deeply  mourn  for  sin ! 

And  when  beneath  Thy  Cross  we  bow, 

May  Faith,  adoring,  say, 
Oh,  LAMB  OF  GOD,  'tis  only  Thou 

Canst  take  our  sins  away  ! 

And  oh !  when  Easter  fills  the  sky 

With  gold  and  scarlet  flame, 
To  every  mourner,  LORD,  draw  nigh, 

And  bless  us,  each,  by  name! 


20  PALM    SUNDAY. 


flalm 

/CHILDREN  of  Zion !  rise  to  hail  your  KING, 
\J       With  loud  hosannas  meet  him  in  the  gate, 
Garments  and  branches  in  His  pathway  fling, 
He  comes  in  royal  state. 

Haste  to  prepare  for  Him  the  kingly  throne, 

The  royal  robe,  the  princely  diadem, 
For  lo  !  MESSIAH  comes  to  claim  His  own. 

Springing  from  David's  stem. 

Ride  on,  O  King,  ride  on  !   the  end  is  near, 
Thy  work  is  wrought,  Thy  victory  is  won, 
The  crown  of  thorns,  the  purple  robe  are  here 
On  Calvary,  Thy  throne  ! 

Oh,  holy  crown,  oh,  royal  robe  of  red  ! 

Pain  and  contempt  by  you  are  made  divine ; 
Oh  Cross,  where  JESUS  bowed  His  dying  head, 
We  conquer  by  that  sign ! 

And  now,  a  countless  throng  His  name  who  bear, 
The  thorns  their  glory,  and  the  Cross  their  boast, 
Pass  through  the  gates,  His  shame  and  death  to 
share, 

Then  join  His  ransomed  host. 


EASTER    LILIES.  21 


(Easter  Cilies. 

HOW  shall  we  keep  this  holy  day  of  gladness, 
This  queen   of  days,  that   bitter,  hopeless 

sadness 

Forever  drives  away  ? 

The  night  is  past, — its  sleep  and  its  forgetting  : 
Our  risen  SUN,  no  more,  forever,  setting, 
Pours  everlasting  day  ! 

Let  us  not  bring,  upon  this  joyful  morning, 
Dead  myrrh  and  spices  for  our  LORD'S  adorning, 

Or  any  lifeless  thing ; 

Our  gift  shall  be  the  fragrance  and  the  splendor 
Of  living  flowers,  in  breathing  beauty  tender, 

The  glory  of  our  spring. 

And  with  the  myrrh,  oh,  put  away  the  leaven 
Of  malice,  hatred,  injuries  unforgiven, 

And  cold  and  lifeless  form  ; 
Still,  with  the  lilies,  deeds  of  mercy  bringing, 
And  fervent  prayers  and  praises  upward  spring- 
ing, 

And  hopes  pure,  bright  and  warm. 


22  EASTER   LILIES. 

So  shall  this  Easter  shed  a  fragrant  beauty 
O'er  many  a  day  of  dull  and  cheerless  duty, 

And  light  thy  wintry  way  ; 
Till  rest  is  won,  and  Patience,  smiling  faintly, 
Upon  thy  breast,  shall  lay  her  lilies  saintly, 

To  crown  Heaven's  Easter  Day ! 


EASTER   DAY.  23 


UNCHANGED,    through    all    the    changing 
years, 

The  widowed  Church  at  dawning  grey 
Goes  forth  to  weep  beside  the  tomb 

Where  once  our  LORD  and  SAVIOUR  lay, — 

And  carries  with  her  spice  and  balm 

That  through  the  air  their  fragrance  shed: 

Oh,  hush!  nor  ask  of  her,  in  scorn, 
"  Why  seek  the  living  'mid  the  dead  ?" 

Draw  near  and  see  the  precious  store, 

Until  she  all  her  gifts  display, 
Which  through  the  year  she  garners  up, 

And  pours  them  forth  on  Easter  Day. 

And  first  she  brings  her  children's  prayers, 
Which  she  has  taught  them,  day  by  day, 

Through  life,  and  death,  to  offer  still, 
At  home,  at  sea,  or  far  away. 

And  next  she  gives  each  loving  word, 

And  every  holy,  fruitful  thought ; 
Each  effort  for  the  souls  of  men, 

Each  work,  in  love  and  mercy  wrought. 


24  EASTER   DAY. 

And  then,  her  last  and  choicest  gift, 
Wherewith  she  crowneth  all  the  rest, — 

The  memory  of  her  holy  dead 

Who  sleep,  of  perfect  peace  possessed  ! 

Still  bears  she  forth  her  precious  hoard, 
And  hope  grows  strong,  with  every  year, 

That  many  Easters  shall  not  pass 

Before  her  BRIDEGROOM  shall  appear. 

Then  shall  her  days  of  fasting  end, 
And  she  her  weeds  aside  will  lay ; 

For  Death  and  Sin  will  be  no  more, 
When  dawns  that  endless  Easter  Day! 


ASCENSION    DAY.  25 


Ascension 


DISCIPLE,  lift  to-day,  thine  eyes, 
Thy  risen  LORD  behold 
Pass  through  the  portals  of  the  sky, 
Beyond  the  gates  of  gold. 

Those  golden  gates,  they  open  wide 

Their  monarch  to  receive  ; 
But  then  the  glorious  vision  hide, 

And  we  the  mount  must  leave. 

But  when  we  turn,  with  weary  feet 

This  lonely  earth  to  tread,    > 
Our  hearts  can  rise,  in  musings  sweet, 

To  our  ascended  Head  ! 

No  golden  gates,  no  deepening  skies 

The  longing  heart  restrain  ; 
On  wings  of  love  and  prayer  she  flies 

To  find  her  LORD  again. 

And  they,  who  win  the  power  through  grace 

By  faith  to  enter  in, 
Bring  blessings  from  that  holy  place, 

Back  to  this  world  of  sin. 


26  ASCENSION  DAY. 

Oh,  LORD,  our  life  is  hid  with  Thee, 
While  here  on  earth  we  move ; 

Help  us,  unworthy  though  we  be, 
To  lift  our  hearts  above ; — 

Till,  sweeping  through  the  gates  of  gold, 

The  angel  hosts  once  more 
Descend,  and  we  Thy  Face  behold 

Whom  we,  unseen,  adore  ! 


VESTA'S  ALTAR.  27 


VESTA'S  ALTAR. 

OF  Old,  on  Vesta's  sacred  hearth, 
Beneath  the  heaven's  blue  dome, 
The  vestal  virgins  kept  the  flame 
That  held  the  fate  of  Rome. 

For  vain  the  boasted  Roman  arms, 
And  weak  the  Roman  might, 

Unless  the  mystic  flame  should  burn 
On  Vesta's  altar  bright ! 

And  vain  is  now  man's  boasted  skill, 
And  strength  to  do  and  dare, 

Unless  the  Church's  altars  glow 
With  purest  flames  of  prayer ; 

Altars  concealed  from  human  gaze, 

But  open  to  the  sky  ; 
Upon  them  burns,  undimmed,  the  fire 

While  centuries  roll  by. 

The  soldiers  of  the  Cross  go  forth, — 

No  victory  they  know, 
Unless,  at  home,  the  altars  burn 

With  warm  devotion's  glow. 


28  VESTA'S  ALTAR. 

The  world,  perhaps,  may  laugh  in  scorn, 

But  ruin,  shame  and  blight 
That  nation  feels,  where  impious  hands 

Have  quenched  that  holy  light. 

Oh,  GOD  the  HOLY  GHOST,  whose  breath 

First  lit  that  living  flame, 
When,  on  the  Apostles'  heads  of  old, 

In  tongues  of  fire  it  came ; 

Still  guarded  by  a  faithful  Church, 
May  it  more  brightly  burn, 

Till  He,  Who  is  the  Light  of  light, 
Our  LORD  and  KING,  return! 


TRINITY    SUNDAY.  29 

Srinitg  Sun&aj}. 

THE   TWO-FOLD    WITNESS. 
Rev.  v.   13,  14. 

WHEN  Nature  on  her  leafy  bed, 
Sleeps  through  the  long  December  night, 
The  Church  lifts  up  her  patient  head 
And  watches  for  the  Advent  light. 

And  when  the  sun  returns  again, 

With  lengthening  days  the  earth  to  bless, 

She  sings  her  glad,  triumphant  strain, 
To  hail  the  SUN  OF  RIGHTEOUSNESS  ! 

In  the  first  thrill  of  opening  spring 

Her  days  of  penitence  are  set, 
Lest,  rising  on  too  joyful  wing, 

We  should  the  sinful  past  forget. 

\ 

When  Nature  wakes  to  sudden  life, 
And  finds  that  wintry  snows  are  fled, 

The  Church  'sings  of  victorious  strife, 
"  The  LORD  is  risen  from  the  dead"  ! 

When,  like  new-fallen  snowy  drifts, 
The  blossoms  cluster  on  the  trees, 

To  GOD  the  HOLY  GHOST  she  lifts 

Her  prayer  for  fruitful  boughs  like  these. 


30  THE    TWO-FOLD   WITNESS. 

But  oh,  the  fulness  and  the  glow, 

The  light,  the  fragrance  and  the  song, 

The  days  that  only  June  can  know 
To  One  great  Name,  alone,  belong! 

Thus,  in  one  glorious  autiphone, 
Nature  and  Grace,  in  sweet  accord, 

The  FATHER,  SON  and  SPIRIT  own, 

And  of  both  kingdoms  hail  Him  LORD  I 


FOURTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.    31 

dolled  for  tfje  jFoitrtl)  QuribaQ  after 


OH,  LORD,  our  Protector,  to  whom  we  belong, 
We  are  sinful  and  weak,  Thou  art  holy  and 
strong  ; 

Though  dangers  affright,  and  temptations  assail, 
Yet,  trusting  in  Thee,  our  hearts  shall  not  fail. 

We  know  that  if  Thou  art  our  Ruler  and  Guide, 
Our  way  will  be  plain,  and  our  steps  shall  not 

slide  ; 

And,  looking  to  Thee,  as  we  journey  along, 
The  LORD  our  Salvation  shall  still  be  our  song. 

Though  thorny  the  road,  yet  our  home  draweth 

near; 

Unseal  our  dim  vision,  and  make  it  appear  ; 
Then,  fixing  our  eyes  on  its  glistening  walls, 
We  pass  on,  rejoicing,  whatever  befalls. 

And  oh,  when  the  bramble  gives  place  to  the  rose, 
And  soft  verdant  meadows  invite  to  repose, 
Amid  pleasures  so  fleeting,  forbid  us  to  stray, 

Life  eternal  to  lose  for  what  passes  away. 

Some  jewels  we  drop  from  our  trembling  clasp  ; 
Some  flowers  will  fade  in  our  feverish  grasp  ;  — 
What  matter,  if  only  we  hold,  to  the  last, 
The  gems  that  will  brighten  when  ages  roll  pnst  ? 


32          FOURTH    SUNDAY   AFTER   TRINITY. 

And  when  we  shall  come  to  the  dark  river's  shore, 
Redeemer  and  Guide,  Thou  hast  passed  it  before, 
Thou  wilt  lead  us  across,  and  then,  low  at  Thy 

feet, 
Thy  praises,  forever,  our  songs  shall  repeat. 


EIGHTH    SUNDAY   AFTER   TRINITY.          33 

Collect  for  tJje  ®igl)tfj  Sunima  after  Srinitg. 


A  LL  things  hurtful/'  dost  thou  know 
±\-  What  thou  askest  praying  so, 

It  may  be  the  very  thing 
That  thy  soul  doth  dearly  love, 

That  to  which  thy  heart  doth  cling, 
Thou  are  praying,  "  Lord,  remove"  ! 
Canst  thou,  dar'st  thou,  thus  to  pray, 
"All  things  hurtful  take  away"  ? 

"  Things  of  profit",  they  may  be 
Care  and  want  and  misery  ; 
Days  of  toil,  and  nights  of  grief, 

Loneliness  of  heart  and  soul, 
Sickness  finding  no  relief, 

Hunger  fed  by  stranger's  dole  ! 
When  thou  prayest,  dost  thou  know 
Thou  wilt  not  be  answered  so  ? 

Nay,  whatever  He  remove, 

He  will  grant  me  still  His  love  ; 

And  whatever  else  He  grant, 

He  will  give  Himself  to  me  ; 
Need  I  fear  for  earthly  want, 

If  the  LORD  my  portion  be  ? 
Give  me  all  things  good,  I  pray, 
All  things  hurtful,  take  away  ! 


34  ST.  MICHAEL   AND   ALL   ANGELS. 

St.  itticljael  cm&  all  Angels. 

A  NGEL  hosts,  in  strength  excelling, 
XJL      Ye  whose  very  name  is  love, 
Now  JEHOVAH'S  praises  telling, 
Bowing  at  His  throne  above  : 
-  Then,  as  if  on  eagle  pinions, 

Downward  through  the  radiant  sky, 
To  his  uttermost  dominions 
To  fulfil  His  word  ye  fly. 

Now,  with  saddened  looks  descending, 

Where  was  wrought  some  deed  of  shame, 
Ye,  the  Eden  gates  defending, 

Conscience  wake  with  sword  of  flame  ; 
Ye,  from  out  the  doomed  city 

To  the  righteous  point  a  path, 
Then,  repressing  all  your  pity, 

Pour  the  vials  of  GOD'S  wrath. 

When  the  pilgrim  rests  at  even 

With  a  stone  beneath  his  head, 
To  the  very  gate  of  Heaven 

Ye  can  change  that  lowly  bed! 
Ye,  JEHOVAH'S  law  declaring, 

Teach  His  people  life  to  win, 
Then,  His  awful  judgments  bearing, 

Smite  them  even  in  their  sin. 


ST.    MICHAEL   AND   ALL   ANGELS.  35 

Hark  !  the  angel  choir  is  singing, 

Shining  with  celestial  light, 
And  the  joyful  tidings  bringing, 

"CHRST,  your  LORD,  is  born  to-night"  ! 
Happy  they  whom  GOD  selected 

On  His  Only  Son  to  wait ! 
Though  by  man  despised,  rejected, 

Angels  served  His  royal  state. 

Angels  came,  the  mourners  cheering, 

"  CHRIST  is  risen  from  the  dead/' 
To  the  wondering  twelve  appearing, 

"  Follow  your  ascended  Head"  ! 
For  the  captive,  calmly  sleeping, 

Whil'e  the  Church  to  GOD  compl  ains, 
Bolts  and  bars  before  him  sweeping, 

Lo  an  angel  breaks  his  chains ! 

The  poor  exile,  in  his  vision, 

On  the  golden  pavement  stands, 
And  he  sees  the  hosts  elysian, 

Michael  and  his  warrior  bands  ; 
Angels  seven,  of  retribution, 

Awful  servants  of  the  LORD, 
Saw  he  cleanse  the  earth's  pollution 

With  the  vial  and  the  sword. 


36     ST.  MICHAEL  AND  ALL  ANGELS. 

Still  their  ministry  fulfilling, 

Angel  hosts  keep  watch  and  ward, 
And  with  loving  hearts  and  willing 

Still  our  feeble  footsteps  guard. 
Still  they  soothe  the  mourner's  weeping, 

Still  the  lonely  cell  they  grace, 
Still  the  children  they  are  keeping, 

While  they  see  our  Father's  face ! 

LORD,  Whose  love  that  overfloweth, 

In  each  darkened  heart  doth  shine, 
Till  the  earthly  love  it  knoweth 

Leads  it  up  to  the  Divine  ; — 
Still,  behind  our  angel  keeping, 

May  we  own  Thy  tender  care; — 
Own  the  love  that  is  unsleeping, 

Love  that  all  Thy  children  share. 


THE   MINISTRY    OF   ANGELS.  37 

®l)e  JHinistrg  of  Angela. 

THE  angel  host  victorious, 
In  ordered  ranks  they  stand 
Around  the  Throne  so  glorious, 
Or  speed  at  GOD'S  command. 
Shall  mortal  man  be  shielded 

By  creatures  so  divine  ? 
Or  Michael's  sword  be  wielded 
For  Adam's  sinful  line  ? 

Yes !  even  for  this  ascendeth 

To-day,  the  Church's  prayer  ; 
Since  JESUS  condescendeth 

Our  human  flesh  to  wear ! 
But  angel  hosts  no  blessing 

To  faithless  hearts  can  bring, 
Who  fail  His  Name  confessing, 

Of  men  and  angels,  King  ! 

That  Name  the  charm  containeth 

That  binds  those  spirits  free, 
And  hearts  of  flame  constraineth 

Slaves  of  the  Cross  to  be ; 
But  woe  to  those  refusing 

To  own  Him  LORD  of  all, 
At  their  own  peril  choosing 

Spirits  unbound  to  call ! 


38  ST.    MICHAEL   AND    ALL   ANGELS. 

Nor  shall  those  angels  holy 

Descend  for  him,  whose  pride 
Disdains  the  task  most  lowly, 

For  love  of  Him  Who  died. 
One  law  His  Kingdom  bindeth, — 

The  humble  shall  be  great, — 
And  he  who  serveth,  findeth 

That  angels  on  him  wait. 


VIGIL    OF    ALL    SAINTS.  39 

of  all  Saints. 


THE  vigil  of  All  Saints  ! 
Awake,  my  soul,  to  prayer  ;  — 
Oh,  heart  that  fails  and  faints 
At  all  that  thou  must  bear. 
Behold,  serenely  fair, 
The  vision  of  All  Saints. 

Far  back  the  names  begin, 

From  righteous  Abel  slain, 
Till  patriarch,  prophet,  psalmist  win 

A  place  in  that  bright  train, 
And  join  the  joyful  strain  — 

The  New  Song  of  All  Saints. 

There  holy  Stephen  kneels, 
And  Peter  mounts  the  Cross, 

And  Paul  in  bonds  and  prison  feels 
All  earthly  riches  dross, 

And  counts  them  all  as  loss, 
For  CHRIST  the  King  of  Saints  ! 

There,  John  his  head  reclines 

Upon  his  Master's  breast, 
And  Mary's  virgin  beauty  shines, 

Above  all  women  blest  ; 
Not  Queen  of  Heaven,  but  still  confessed 

Foremost  among  All  Saints. 


40  VIGIL    OF   ALL    SAINTS. 

There  James,  killed  by  the  sword 

The  fiery  Baptist  there, 
Matthew  called  from  his  hoard, 

Nathanael  from  prayer  ; 
Thomas,  no  longer  doubting,  share 

The  glories  of  the  Saints  ! 

And  then  a  glorious  train, 
Whose  numbers  none  can  tell, 

White-robed,  and  palms  in  every  hand, 
In  joy  unspeakable 

The  ceaseless  praises  swell 

Of  Him  Who  made  them  Saints. 

Why  should  I  tell  their  names? 

No  human  praise  they  sought, 
Whether  they  trod  through  blood  and  flames, 

Or  all  unnoticed  wrought 
His  will,  to  serve  Whom  is  the  thought, 

The  one  Rule  of  All  Saints. 

Some,  like  glad  sunshine,  burst 

On  dens  of  woe  and  vice, 
And  some  through  years  of  suffering  nursed 

The  flame  of  sacrifice  : 
Alike,  they  rest  in  Paradise 

Among  the  blessed  Saints. 


VIGIL    OF   ALL   SAINTS.  41 

Nor  yet  their  number  is  complete, 

For,  from  the  Church  below, 
For  that  inheritance  made  meet, 

Each  year  our  loved  ones  go; 
And  earth  grows  darker ;   but  we  know 

They  rest  with  all  the  Saints. 

LORD  JESUS,  give  us  strength, 

Who  keep  this  vigil  here, 
To  follow  them,  till  we  at  length, 

Unmoved  by  praise,  unmoved  by  fear, 
Before  Thy  blessed  face  appear, 

To  praise  Thee  with  All  Saints. 

Lo  !   the  first  streak  of  dawn ; 

The  midnight  watch  is  o'er : 
All  hail !  the  festal  morn, 
,  The  bridegroom  shuts  the  door  : 
Enter,  tried  soul,  to  leave  no  more 

The  glad  Feast  of  All  Saints ! 


42  LAST    NIGHT    OF   THE   YEAR. 

Cast  Nigl)t  of  ilje  gear. 

WAKE,  careless  soul,  and  watch  this  night 
and  pray 
Beside  this  bier; 

Her  breath,  ere  morning  come,  shall  pass  away 
This  dying  year. 

Kemember  how  she  smiling  came  to  thee, 

So  young  and  fair  ; 
Alas,  now  pale  and  drawn  her  wan  cheeks  be, 

And  lined  with  care. 

Laden  with  many  a  rich  and  precious  thing, 

From  GOD  she  came ; 
Think,  ere  she  die,  of  all  that  she  did  bring, 

And  bless  His  Name. 

She  daily  strewed  thy  path  with  flowers 

Of  love  and  peace  : 
She  sometimes  brought  thee  studious  hours 

Of  rest  and  ease. 

She  gave  thee  many  a  task,  and  duty,  too, 

All  for  Love's  sake ; 
Canst  tell  how  sweet  those  daily  duties  grew, 

That  Love  did  make  ? 


LAST  NIGHT  OF  THE  YEAR.       43 

Give  thanks  that  she  did  bring  thee,  day  by  day, 

(This  dying  year), 
Some  trembling  feet  to  guide  upon  life's  way, — 

Some  hearts  to  cheer. 


She  brought  to  thee  some  weary  nights  of  pain, 

Some  feverish  days ; 
Didst  thou  see  Patience  smiling  in  her  train, 

With  Prayer  and  Praise  ? 

Say  not  she  brought,  then  killed,  some  hopes  most 
fair, 

Not  dead  they  be, 
They  are  transplanted  to  that  Garden  where 

They'll  bloom  for  thee. 

She  gave  to  thee,  oh,  thankless  soul,  each  week, 

One  day  of  rest ; 
Didst  thou  remember,  then,  thy  LORD  to  seek 

To  be  thy  Guest  ? 

When  morning  flushed  with  joy  the  eastern  skies, 

She  brought  thee  light 

From  GOD'S  dear  word,  and  closed  thy  weary 
eyes 

With  that,  at  night. 


44  LAST   NIGHT    OF   THE   YEAR. 

Now,  in  the  midnight  chill  and  gloom,  she  died ; 

That  groan  her  last ; 
Up  to  the  very  Throne  of  GOD  she  flies, 

Where  lives  the  Past. 

Oh,  kneel  and  offer  now  one  hearty  prayer, — 

One  earnest  cry 
For  pardon  for  the  sins  she  must  declare 

To  GOD  Most  High  ! 

Look,  where  her  sister,  with  averted  face, 

And  covered  hands, 

(Thou  knowest  not  what  they  hold  of  woe  or 
grace), 

Before  thee  stands. 

Kneel  on,  but  offer  now  an  altered  prayer, 

Thy  pardon  won  ; 
Say,  whatsoe'er  of  grief  or  pain  she  bear, 

"  Thy  will  be  done  1" 

Then  rising,  with  a  cheerful  face  receive 

The  glad  New  Year ; 
To  GOD  thy  present,  past  and  future,  leave, 

Thou  needst  not  fear  ! 


PART   II. 


©often  Cegenfc. 


This  is  one  of  thermost  striking  of  the  Middle  age  Legends.  It  is 
founded  on  those  mysterious  verses,  St.  Matt,  xxvii.  52,  53,  and 
i  Pet.  ii.  19,  20;  and  Dante  alludes  several  times  to  the  account 
given  in  it  of  our  LORD'S  descent  into  Hell. 

AT  length  the  awful  day  had  reached  its  close, 
Day  on  whose  like,  before  nor  since,  sun  rose ; 
That  saw  the  Prince  of  Life  to  death  descend, 
Well  might  the  sun  grow  dark,  earth  quake,  rocks 
rend! 

They  met  together,  o'er  their  guilt  to  feast, 
Lawyers  and  Scribes,  with  Annas  the  High  priest. 
What  chills  their  joy?   have  they  not  slain  the 

prey 
For  which  they  watched  and  waited  many  a  day  ? 

What  sudden  light  illumes  the  dusky  room  ? 
What  shapes  are  these  returning  from  the  tomb  ? 
They  know  them  well — dead  sons  of  Simeon  mild, 
Who,  in  the  Temple,  blest  the  Holy  Child. 


48  THE    GOLDEN   LEGEND. 

They  speak  no  word,  but  answering  to  their  signs, 
They  give  to  each  a  roll,  where  many  lines 
They  swiftly  write,  then  vanish ;  and,  behold, 
The  rolls  compared  do,  each,  one  tale  unfold. 

And,  as  they  read,  what  terror  and  dismay 
To  all  their  guilty  souls  the  words  convey ! 
Sudden,  abrupt,  the  mystic  scroll  began — 
No  words  superfluous — and  thus  it  ran  : — 

"  Oh,  Hell  rejoice!"  thus  Satan  cried, 
"  Since  Christ  the  Prince  of  Life  has  died ! 
His  dreaded  Kingdom  has  its  end, 
Behold  Him  to  thy  shades  descend." 

"  But  Hell  made  answer,  sad  and  slow, 
<l  I  fear  His  coming  works  us  woe  ; 
Will  he  rest  here,  Who,  strong  to  save, 
Called  Lazarus  from  his  four  days  grave?" 

"  Such  fearful  words  we  trembling  heard, 
When  all  the  dusky  air  was  stirred 
With  beams  of  light  and  sweetest  strain, 
As  when  the  birds  hail  day  again. 

"  The  choir  of  angels  nearer  came, 
And  light  and  music  shot  like  flame 
Through  Hell's  dark  caverns,  while  their  song 
Floated  its  arches  all  along : — 


THE    GOLDEN    LEGEND.  49 

"  Lift  up  your  lofty  gates  on  high, 
The  King  of  Glory  draweth  nigh" ! 
"  Who  is  the  King  of  Glory,  say"— 
"  The  Lord,  Who  conquers  you  this  day" ! 


"  The  massive  gates  rolled  back,  and  He 
Whom  ye  this  day  slew  on  the  tree 
Passed  through  them  in  majestic  might, 
And  Hell's  dark  caverns  filled  with  light. 


"  And  round  Him  flocking  to  adore, 
Those  faithful  souls  who  long  before 
Rejoiced  to  hail  His  distant  reign 
Now  gladly  swell  His  conquering  train  ; 

"  From  Adam,  Abraham,  all  the  way 
To  us  who  saw  His  natal  day  ; 
And  in  that  dark  abode  so  long 
Had  waited  their  deliverer  strong. 


"  He  through  those  awful  gates  again, 
While  Satan  gnashed  his  teeth  in  vain, 
Bore  us  to  mansions  calm  and  blest, 
Where  we  may  in  His  Presence  rest, 


50  THE    GOLDEN   LEGEND. 

"  And  peaceful  wait,  and  hopeful  pray, 
Till  dawns,  at  last,  the  longed-for  day, 
When  soul  and  body  meet  again, 
His  faithful  with  their  Lord  shall  reign  !" 

Such  were  the  words  they  in  those  scrolls  did 

write, 

And  as  they  read,  those  guilty  souls,  what  fright 
Made  their  knees  tremble,  whitened  lip  and  cheek, 
AVhile  each  one  longed  and  strove,  yet  feared  to 

speak. 

Another  form  appears,  a  well-known  face, 
Where  pain,  and  sin  and  passion  leave  their  trace, 
Yes,  holy  peace  now  every  feature  fills, 
And  with  triumphant  joy  the  deep  voice  thrills. 

"  Lo,  I  am  he  who  on  the  cross,  this  day, 
Hung  by  the  Holy  One  Whom  ye  did  slay : 
Who,  even  in  dying,  did  a  glory  wear 
That  flashed  a  light  across  my  soul's  despair ! 

"  Those  cruel  thorns  changed  to  a  shining  crown  ; 
The  cross,  transformed,  became  a  royal  throne. 
I  saw  Messiah  'hanging  from  the  tree/ 
And  cried,  in  transport,  'Lord,  remember  me'! 


THE    GOLDEN    LEGEND.  51 

"  Sweet  was  His  smile,  and  soft  His  voice  like 

rain 

Fell  on  my  fevered  heart,  and  healed  its  pain." 
"And  didst  thou  know   Me,  through   this   sad 

disguise? — 
Then  shalt  thou  walk   with   Me,   this   day,  in 

Paradise ; 

"  Take  thou  this  sign,  and  bear  it  to  the  gates 
And  offer  it,  whatever  angel  waits ; 
For,  from  this  day,  howe'er  defiled  by  sin, 
Whoever  shows  the  Cross  shall  enter  in." 

"  When  death  released  me,  to  the  golden  door 
This  sign,  upon  my  shoulders  marked,  I  bore ; 
The  pitying  angel  gave  to  me  a  place, 
I  thence  return  to  bid  you  seek  His  grace"  ! 

Tliis  legend  in  a  quaint  old  book  I  read, 
And  it  was  added  that  Hell's  mansions  dread, 
The  walls  thrown  down,  the  dismal  caverns  rent, 
Still  bore  the  marks  of  that  Divine  Descent. 

But  if  the  priests  and  lawyers,  when  they  heard 
The  wondrous  tale,  repented  at  the  word, 
The  legend  tells  not ;    let  thine  own  heart  say, 
Hell's  gates  resist  not,  but  the  proud  soul  may. 


52  MORITURI   TE    SALTJTANT. 


Jflorittm  te  QalntanL 

The  gladiators  passing  before  the  throne  of  Tiberius,  when  entering 
the  arena,  saluted  him  in  these  words.  I  have  supposed  the  Christ- 
ians being  led  to  martyrdom  to  do  the  same. 

DARK,  awful  power,  now  from  thy  throne 
Look  on  thy  suffering  subjects  down, 
With  scornful  smile  and  cruel  eye, 
To  see  them  fight  and  bleed  and  die ! 
Our  lives  hang  on  thy  word  alone, 
We  know  it  well,  but  not  one  groan 
Escapes  our  lips,  no  frantic  prayer 
Wrung  from  the  anguish  of  despair : 
With  unblanched  cheek  and  unmoved  eye 
We  pass  thy  radiant  splendor  by; 
Thy  slaves  in  all  things  else,  beside, 
Thine  equals,  Caesar,  in  thy  pride  ! 
Thou  hast  no  power  to  make  us  quail, 
We,  dying  Romans,  bid  thee  hail ! 

Oh,  mighty  monarch,  thanks  to  thee, 
Who,  on  this  day,  dost  set  us  free  ! 
Hard  is  the  fight,  and  sharp  the  pain, 
But  at  the  end  eternal  gain. 
A  mightier  King  is  looking  down, 
Who  holds,  for  each,  a  victor's  crown  ! 
Isot  to,  but  for  thee,  King,  we  pray 


MOPtlTURI   TE    SALUTANT.  53 

That  thou  mayst  be  forgiven  this  day. 

Youths,  maidens,  men  with  hoary  head, 

And  matrons,  by  thy  throne  we're  led, 

Serene,  but  not  in  stoic  pride, 

Our  trust  is  in  the  Crucified ! 

Thy  power  can  ne'er  our  souls  assail, 

We,  dying  Christians,  bid  thee  hail ! 

Still  stands  that  awful  throne  on  high 

And  still  the  ceaseless  stream  goes  by 

In  long  procession,  young  and  old ! 

And  some  with  haughty  mien,  and  bold, 

And  some  in  fright,  and  dumb  despair  ; 

And  some  in  agony  of  prayer ; 

And  some  with  smiles,  as  who  should  say 

Lo,  now,  we  put  all  care  away ! 

And  some,  with  them  be  mine  a  place, 

With  awe  that  hopes  for  pardoning  grace  ; 

And  some  whose  faces  wear  a  light 

That  streams  from  some  far,  heavenly  height. 

To  pass  that  throne  not  one  shall  fail, 

Oh  Death,  the  dying  bid  thee  hail ! 


54    LOSS  OF  THE  TROOP-SHIP,  ADRIAN  CAPEL. 


of 


On  the  south-west  coast  of  England  is  a  monument  raised  to  the 
memory  of  the  young  girl  whose  heroism  is  recorded  in  the  follow- 
ing verses. 

SWEET  and  tender  as  the  violets, 
On  a  chilly  April  day  ; 
Pare  and  holy  as  the  lilies, 

And  as  soon  to  fade  away  ; 
Born  to  be  a  pet  and  darling, — 

Born  to  be  some  brave  heart's  queen ; 
Dying  far  from  friends  and  kindred  ; 
Dying,  only  seventeen ! 

Soft  and  gentle  through  the  voyage, 

As  a  child  we  held  her  dear, 
Saint  and  heroine  we  found  her 

In  that  awful  night  of  fear, 
Meeting  such  a  death  of  horror 

Just  when  life  most  brightly  smiled, 
With  the  courage  of  a  martyr, 

And  the  meekness  of  a  child ! 


LOSS  OF  THE  TROOP-SHIP,  ADRIAN  CAPEL.  55 

'Mid  the  darkness,  and  the  tempest, 

Struck  the  ship  upon  a  rock  ; 
And  from  helm  to  bow-sprit  quivered, 

With  the  horror  of  the  shock  ; — 
Spake  the  captain,  "  Hope  is  over, 

Men  prepare,  for  death  is  near !" 
To  the  spirit  room  descending, 

Mad,  they  sought  to  drown  their  fear. 

At  the  door  the  maiden  met  them, 

Like  an  angel  clothed  in  white, 
And  her  voice  rang  like  a  trumpet ; — 

"  Be  not  beasts,  but  men,  to-night ! 
Well  I  know  this  coast, — these  billows 

Beat  around  my  childhood's  home." 
(Here,  perhaps,  the  clear  voice  trembled, 

And  the  gathering  tears  would  come). 

"  And  if  one  man  has  the  courage 

Round  his  waist  to  bind  a  rope, 
And  to  take  it  through  the  breakers 

To  those  rocks,  there  yet  is  hope." 
Then  the  roughest  sailor  answered, — 

With  a  look  of  shame  he  spoke; — 
"  That  is  true,  and  I  will  venture, 

I  will  bear  it  to  the  rock." 


56  LOSS  OF  THE  TEOOP-SHIP,  ADRIAN  CAPEL. 

Soon  three  ropes  were  safely  fastened, 

And,  amid  the  howling  blast, 
All  the  women,  and  the  children, 

Trembling,  crying,  safely  passed  ; 
Where  was  she,  the  maid  heroic  ? — 

In  the  rigging,  safely  bound, 
With  the  sea- spray  dashing  o'er  her, 

And  the  tempest  raging  round  ! 

And,  from  out  her  little  prayer  book, 

By  the  swinging  light,  read  she 
The  prayers  for  those  in  peril 

Of  shipwreck,  on  the  sea. 
The  bravest  hearts  were  strengthened 

By  those  words  of  holy  cheer, 
And  even  the  little  children 

Could  half  forget  their  fear. 

The  women,  and  the  children 

Were  safe  upon  the  shore, 
And  the  captain  came  to  take  her 

Who  would  not  go  before, 
One  moment, — and  the  vision 

Came  rushing  on  her  sight, 
Of  the  circle  at  the  fireside, 

Who  thought  of  her,  that  night ! 


LOSS  OF  THE  TROOP-SHIP,  ADRIAN  CAPEL.    57 

One  moment ! — then  she  answered, 

"  Let  the  fathers  and  the  sons 
On  whom  so  many  lives  depend, 

Go  to  those  helpless  ones !" 
Then,  from  out  her  little  prayer  book, 

By  the  ship's  dim  light,  read  she 
The  prayers  for  those  in  peril 

Of  shipwreck,  on  the  sea ! 

But  seven  of  all  those  hundreds 

Were  left  upon  the  wreck, 
And  the  captain  had  unbound  her, 

When  a  sea  swept  o'er  the  deck ; — 
Only  one  of  those  last  seven 

In  safety  reached  the  land ; — 
In  the  morn  they  found  the  maiden, 

Lying  lifeless  on  the  sand  ! 

All  loosely,  round  her  figure, 

Hung  that  long,  soft,  golden  hair, 
One  hand,  upon  her  bosom, 

Clasped  the  little  book  of  prayer, 
The  other  held  her  garments, 

With  a  sweet  and  modest  grace, 
One  little  foot  uncovered, 

And  a  smile  on  her  dead  face  I 


58    LOSS  OF  THE  TROOP-SHIP,  ADRIAN  CAPEL. 

She  rests  with  her  Eedeemer, 

Who  ransomed  her  from  death, 
And  whose  dear  name  she  uttered, 

In  yielding  up  her  breath, 
Till  the  morn  of  Resurrection 

Bids  storms  and  darkness  flee, 
And  then,  O  blessed  promise, 

There  shall  be  "  no  more  sea7' ! 


THE    HAVEN    OF    REST.  59 


tyaven  of 


Then  are  they  glad  because  they  are  at  rest  ;    He  bringeth  them  to  the 
haven  where  they  would  be.     Ps.  cvii. 

GLAD,  not  with  the  gladness  of  crowned  am- 
bition, 

Not  in  a  bark  that  comes  riding  at  ease, 
Not  with  the  gladness  of  Hope's  bright  fruition, 
Not  with  full  sails,  and  a  prospering  breeze  !  — 

Nay,  with  a  vessel  before  the  storm  driven, 
With  cargo  thrown  over,  masts  lost,  and  sails 

rent; 
Yet  the  storm  passes  on,  not  in  vain  have  they 

striven, 
For  life  is  not  lost,  and  they  are  content  ; 

Contented  ?  yea,  glad,  for  the  anguish  is  over, 
The  sun  shineth  bright  on  a  clear,  glassy  sea, 

And,  far  in  the  distance  their  eyes  may  discover 
The  haven  of  rest  where  their  souls  fain  would 
be! 


60  THE    HAVEN    OF    REST. 

And  oh,  in  Life's  storm,  though  the  bright  hopes 

have  perished, 
The  warmth,  and  the  glow,  and  the  dew  of  our 

youth, 

The  treasures  so  dear  that  our  longing  hearts  cher- 
ished, 

Gone  down  'neath  the  billows  of  sorrow  and 
ruth ; 

If  the  vessel  of  faith  shall  outride  that  fierce  ocean, 
Nor  the  life  of  the  spirit  be  lost  in  the  wave, 

Heaven's  calm  shall  repay  us  Life's  wildest  com- 
motion. 
The  LORD,  our  REDEEMER,  is  mighty  to  save ! 

And  oh,  when  the  soul  that  dear  haven  attaineth, 
How  glad  and  how  blessed  that  tried  soul  shall 

be, 

Forever  to  dwell  in  "the  rest  that  remaineth," 
For  the  promise  is  sure,  there  shall  be  no  more 
sea. 


THE   BUILDING   THE    WALLS.  61 

®l)e  Suilbing  tlje  to  alls. 

"  And  the  walls  shall  be  built,  even  in  troublous  times." 
Dan.  ix.  25. 

WITH  one  hand  the  trowel  wielding, 
While  the  other  held  the  sword, 
Such  has  ever  been  the  building 
Of  the  City  of  the  LORD  ! 

Thus  was  laid  her  sure  foundation 

Long  ago,  in  troublous  time, 
In  the  last  great  tribulation 

Shall  they  rear  her  towers  sublime. 

When  men  dwell  at  ease,  securely, 
Ah !  how  oft  the  building  stays, 

But  it  rises  fast  arid  surely, 

In  the  dark  and  troublous  days. 

Let  us  rise  then  to  our  duty, 

Work  and  watch,  in  faith  and  prayer, 
Till,  at  length,  in  all  her  beauty 

Zion  rise,  complete  and  fair ! 

Let  no  threatening  make  us  falter, 
Treacherous  friend,  nor  open  foe, 

Care  we  not  how  times  may  alter, 
If  our  glorious  work  may  grow. 


62  THE   BUILDING  THE   WALLS. 

What,  though  evil  men  oppress  us, 
He,  who  says  Arise  and  build, 

In  the  work  He  gives  will  bless  us, 
And  His  word  must  be  fulfilled. 

His  the  plan,  and  His  the  glory, 
In  His  Name  the  walls  we  raise, 

When  we  crown  the  topmost  story, 
His,  alone,  shall  be  the  praise  I 


ST.    BERNARD   AND   THE   HISTORIAN.        63 

Qt.  Bernard  emir  tlje  historian,  Onbbon. 

See  Chapt  59  of  the  Decline  and  Fall. 

F  IKE  some  fair,  captive  princess  sleeping, 
JLJ      Calm  lay  the  lovely  lake  Lucerne, 
Their  silent  watch  around  her  keeping, 
Stood  the  cold  Alps,  like  warders  stern. 

And,  ere  the  sun,  with  glances  tender, 
Might  kiss  the  lake  that  lay  below, 

The  herald,  dawn,  with  golden  splendor, 
Must  touch  each  peak  of  ice  and  snow. 

Upon  the  shore  there  walked,  each  morning, 

A  monk  of  such  celestial  mind 
That  he,  all  earthly  beauty  scorning, 

Could  walk  unconscious,  as  the  blind. 

And  when  within  their  convent  dwelling 
Of  that  fair  scene  his  brethren  spake, 

And  praised  its  beauty  all  excelling, — 
And  where,  then,  said  he,  is  this  lake  ? 

Oh,  fool,  like  dew  thy  Maker's  blessing 
Fell  on  the  earth,  and  named  it  good, 

And  shouldst  not  thou,  His  praise  confessing, 
Thank  Him  Who  gave  thine  eyes  such  food  ? 


64        ST.    BERNABD   AND   THE   HISTORIAN. 

Did  not  thy  Lord,  upon  the  mountain, 
Mark  each  fair  lily,  where  it  grew, 

While  He  from  vine,  and  field,  and  fountain, 
His  holy  lessons  daily  drew  ? — 


Ages  past  by,  and  still  the  glory 

Each  morning  touched  those  mountains  stern, 
And  he,  who  tells  this  quaint  old  story, 

Dwelt  now  by  lovely  lake  Lucerne. 


Each  day  with  ardor  unabated 

He  wrote  the  tale  of  Home's  decay, 

And  then,  with  rapture  never  sated, 
He  watched  the  daylight  fade  away. 


And  yet,  perhaps,  in  angels'  vision, 

The  vapor  of  a  carnal  mind, 
More  than  the  veil  of  superstition, 

Has  power  to  make  its  victim  blind ! 

For  he,  that  scene  each  day  beholding, 
Thought  not  of  Him  Who  made  it  fair, 

And  Night,  the  weary  Earth  enfolding, 
Awoke  no  voice  of  praise  and  prayer,: 


ST.  BERNARD   AND    THE   HISTORIAN.         65 

Nay  more,  while  tracing  through  the  ages 

The  causes  of  an  empire's  fall, 
He  never  named,  in  all  his  pages, 

The  GOD  Who  planned  and  ordered  all ! 

A  GOD,  from  all  Himself  concealing, 
Who  on  His  creatures  looks  not  down ; 

Nor  love,  nor  wrath,  nor  pity  feeling, 
His  philosophic  mind  could  own. 

The  Holy  GOD  of  Kevelatiou, 

The  sinner  loving,  hating  sin, 
Who  gave  Himself  for  man's  salvation, 

Only  a  scornful  smile  could  win  ; 

"I  only  know  of  one  religion 

Whose  God  and  sacrifice  are  one"  ; 

And  whence,  then,  came  this  strange  tradition, 
Differing  from  all  beneath  the  sun  ? 

No  answer  comes  !  Beside  the  ocean 
Of  that  great  Love,  so  vast  and  deep, 

He  walks,  and  yet  with  no  emotion 
Of  love  or  joy  his  heart  doth  leap. 

Ah  !   happy  he  who  GOD  beholdeth 
In  all  His  works,  with  vision  clear, 

And  then  the  Tale  of  Love  unfoldeth, 
And  finds  Him  in  His  Word  most  dear. 


66  PILATE'S  STATES. 


'  0  6tair0. 


I  SAW  a  flight  of  marble  stairs, 
I  saw  a  kneeling  crowd 
Crawl  slowly  up,  with  many  prayers, 
Hands  clasped,  and  faces  bowed. 

They  told  me  't  was  the  very  flight 

Up  which,  with  weary  feet, 
The  SAVIOUR  went,  that  last  sad  night, 

His  heathen  judge  to  meet. 

And  they  who  on  their  knees  ascend 
Those  stairs,  though  foul  with  sin, 

Are  sure,  when  they  have  reached  the  end, 
Pardon  and  peace  to  win  ! 

I  saw  the  pilgrims  on  their  knees, 
I  heard  their  muttered  prayers, 

And  yet  I  could  not  think  that  these 
Were  truly  Pilate's  Stairs  ! 

They  who  in  heart  have  followed  CHRIST, 
With  meek  and  patient  feet,  — 

Who  all  for  Him  have  sacrificed, 
And  found  the  offering"  sweet,  — 


PILATE'S  STAIRS.  67 

Who  walk  with  Him  through  grief  and  pain, 
Through  sickness,  want  and  cares, 

Who  count  for  Him  all  loss  but  gain, 
These  kneel  on  Pilate's  Stairs. 

They  who,  where  vice  and  ignorance  dwell 

His  blessed  Name  declare, 
Nor  shun  the  felon  in  his  cell, 

Are  climbing  Pilate's  Stair  : 

They  who  the  world's  reproach  and  blame, 

And  cruel  mockings  bear, 
And  count  it  joy  to  suffer  shame 

With  Him  mount  Pilate's  Stair! 

But  when,  at  last,  they  reach  the  end, 

They  see  the  gates  of  gold! — 
The  gates  roll  back,  and  lo,  within, 

They  their  dear  LORD  behold  ; — 

Then  shall  the  weary  pilgrims  meet, 
To  praise  shall  turn  their  prayers, 

And  they  shall  worship  at  His  feet, 
Who  first  trod  Pilate's  Stairs. 


68       ROME,  ABOVE  AND  BELOW. 


Home,  above  an&  beloto. 

UP    above,   the    churches,   in    their  jewelled 
splendor, 

And  waving  censers,  with  their  rich  perfume, 
Down  below,  the  rudely  hewu-out  arches, 

The  cave-like   chapels,   and   the   mouldering 
gloom. 

Up  above,  the  ever-burning  candles, 
And  costly  altars,  by  their  light  displayed, 

Down  below,  the  glaring  of  the  lurid  torches 
Shows   where   the  saints   in   endless   twilight 
prayed. 

Above,  the  gaudy  shrines  of  the  Madonna, 
Pictures  of  saints  by  kneeling  crowds  adored, 

Below,  the  Fish,  the  Dove,  and  the  Good  Shepherd , 
And    simple  altars   where    they   sought    the 
LORD. 

Above,  the  worshipped  relics  of  the  martyrs, 
A  thousand-fold  oh  wonder,  multiplied, 

Below,  the   tomb,  and   rudely-sculptured  palm- 
branch, 
And  words  of  praise  to  JESUS  crucified. 


ROME,  ABOVE  AND  BELOW.        69 

Above,  the  daily,  oft-repeated  masses, 

For  souls  in  torment,  that  their  pain  may  cease, 

Below,  the  simple,  hopeful,  sweet  inscription, 
"  He  suffered  and  he  sleeps"  ;   "  He  rests   in 
peace." 

Oh,  that  the  spirit  of  the  brave  old  martyrs* 
Might  fill  the  Churches,  walk  the  streets  of 
Rome, 

And  we,  no  more,  amid  the  dust  of  ages, 
Need  seek  the  Faith,  down  in  the  Catacomb  ! 


70  THE  PASTOR'S  TALE. 

®lje  f) aster's  Sale. 

rjIHE  Church  was  free-stone,  and  was  floored 

With  costly  marble  tiles, 
The  light  through  gorgeous  windows  poured, 
Grand  were  the  arched  aisles ; 

One  thing  was  wanting  to  complete 

The  beauty  of  the  shrine, 
A  service  for  the  Altar,  meet 

To  hold  the  Bread  and  Wine. 

The  plainest  service,  if  't  were  real, 

I  would  use  gladly  there, 
It  made  my  soul  revolt  to  feel 

That  this  was  plated  ware. 

And  so  I  told  my  flock,  one  day, 

Their  choicest  hoards  to  bring, 
The  sacred  relics  put  away, 

The  cup,  the  spoon,  the  ring ; — 

For  we  should  offer  to  the  LORD 

The  thing  we  hold  most  dear, 
More  precious  than  the  richest  hoard 

The  gift  that  costs  a  tear ! 


THE  PASTOR'S  TALE.  71 

The  thought  once  dropped  was  like  a  seed, — 

More  like  a  coal  of  fire ; 
From  heart  to  heart  it  spread  with  speed, 

Till  I  had  my  desire. 

As  for  the  tabernacle  of  old, 

When  Moses  gave  command, 
They  brought  the  silver  and  the  gold, 

Fit  for  the  workman's  hand. 

And  with  each  gift  I  heard  a  tale 

Of  hopes  laid  in  the  tomb, — 
Of  joys  like  withered  flowers  grown  pale, 

No  more  on  earth  to  bloom. 

One  woman,  friendless,  poor  and  old, 
In  our  Church  Home  had  found  a  rest, 

No  hoard  was  her's  of  gems  or  gold, 
Yet  still  one  treasure  she  possessed  ; —     ' 

A  silver  thimble  ! — Years  had  fled 
Since  one  who  claimed  her  for  his  own 

Had  given  it  her,  and,  smiling,  said, 

With  this  you  '11  sew  your  wedding  gown. 

He  sailed,  one  final  voyage  to  make, 
The  ship  went  down,  with  all  on  board; 

The  gift  so  treasured  for  his  sake, 
Was  it  not  precious  to  the  LORD  ? 


72  THE  PASTOR'S  TALE. 

A  silver  cup,  (a  simple  note 

Came  with  it)  next  to  me  was  brought ; 
"My  christening  cup,"  the  young  girl  wrote, 

May  it  be  in  the  chalice  wrought? 

"  A  trembling  hope  I  have,  most  sweet, 

I  daily  turn  it  into  prayer, 
That  when  the  service  is  complete, 

I  may  the  Cup  of  Blessing  share." 

Hers  was  a  wish  sincere  and  true, 
And  when  the  Bishop  came  in  Lent, 

She  knelt,  the  promise  to  renew, — 
At  Easter,  for  the  Sacrament. 

For  every  offering  that  was  brought 
Keturned  to  bless  the  giver's  heart ; 

He  loses  all,  who  giveth  naught, 
He  only  gains  who  doth  impart. 

A  member  of  my  parish  came, 

"Who  always  seemed  reserved  and  cold, 

I  scarcely  knew  him  save  by  name, 
Yet  touching  was  the  tale  he  told ; — 

A  tiny  box  he  held  with  care, 

Which,  opened,  to  my  view  displayed 

A  golden  dollar,  bright  and  fair, 
On  folds  of  silver  paper  laid. 


THE  PASTOR'S  TALE.  73 

For  twenty  years  his  child  had  slept, 

His  only  son,  beneath  the  sod ; 
And  for  his  sake  his  parents  kept 

This  token,  yielded,  now,  to  GOD. 

And  like  the  smitten  rock  that  shed 
Fresh  streams  o'er  all  the  arid  plain, 

Touched  by  the  memory  of  the  dead, 
The  stern  man's  heart  grew  soft,  again. 

We  wept  together,  what  was  said 
My  lips,  of  course,  will  ne'er  repeat, 

But,  by  his  buried  darling  led, 

At  length  he  found  the  SAVIOUR'S  feet. 

And  at  the  font  he  washed  away 

The  sins  so  late  in  life  deplored. 
Sure,  there  was  joy  in  heaven  that  day, 

Over  the  wanderer  restored ! 

To  me  these  Holy  Vessels  fair, 

Shine  with  a  more  than  earthly  light ; 

For  pearls  from  tears  distilled,  are  there, 
And  gems  of  love,  by  grace  made  bright. 

'Tis  gold  and  silver,  tried  by  fire, 
Wherein  the  LORD  His  image  sees! 

LORD,  grant  again  my  heart's  desire, 
As  Thou  hast  blest  me  now  with  these ; 


74  THE  PASTOR'S  TALE. 

When  Thou  shalt  make  Thy  jewels  up, 
May  every  soul  that  gave  its  own, 

To  form  the  paten  and  the  cup, 
Shine  ever,  in  Thy  glorious  crown ! 


IN    THE   WILDERNESS.  75 


3n  itye 

Deut.  viii.  15,  16. 

IN  the  wilderness, 
The  great  and  terrible  wilderness, 
CHRIST  Himself  is  the  pilgrim's  bread, 
The  manna  wherewith  the  soul  is  fed  ; 
And  He  my  table  will  prepare, 
As  long  as  I  shall  journey  there  ; 
Himself  the  food,  and  the  Priest  to  bless, 
What  can  I  lack  in  the  wilderness  ? 

In  the  wilderness, 
The  great  and  terrible  wilderness, 
From  the  burning  sand  I  need  not  shrink, 
Fqr  CHRIST,  Himself,  shall  give  me  drink; 
And  He,  who  deigned,  at  Hagar's  cry, 
To  show  the  fountain,  springing  nigh, 
Shall  bid,  from  the  rock,  in  my  sore  distress, 
Kivers  to  flow  in  the  wilderness  ! 

In  the  wilderness, 
The  great  and  terrible  wilderness, 
CHRIST  is  the  Angel  Who  leads  the  way, 
In  fire  by  night,  and  in  cloud  by  day  ! 
Though  rugged,  dear  LORD,  the  road  may  be, 
I  cannot  be  lost,  while  I  follow  Thee  ; 
In  the  way  of  the  Cross  my  feet  shall  press, 
'Till  I  reach  the  end  of  the  wilderness. 


76  IN   THE   WILDERNESS. 

In  the  -wilderness, 
The  great  and  terrible  wilderness, 
CHRIST,  alone,  is  my  stay  and  strength, 
And  I  need  not  fear  its  awful  length ; 
No  danger  shall  e'er  the  soul  alarm 
That  leans  alone  on  His  faithful  arm, 
For  the  LORD,  our  only  RIGHTEOUSNESS, 

Is  our  Rock  of  strength  in  the  wilderness  ! 

In  the  wilderness, 
The  great  and  terrible  wilderness, 
CHRIST  is  my  food,  my  drink  and  my  guide, 
My  stay  and  defence,  whatever  betide ! 
And  if  I  shall  reach  the  glorious  Land, 
By  the  River  of  Life,  where  the  palm  trees  stand, 
How  gladly  shall  I  the  love  confess 

That  led  me  safe  through  the  wilderness  ! 


JAEL.  77 

fad. 

YES,  Ishmael  and  Zarah,  come  lean  against 
my  knee, 
And  hear  the  dreadful  story  that  you  have  asked 

of  me; 

How,  in  your  father's  tent,  one  day,  I  slew  a  trust- 
ing guest, 

Nay,  start  not  back  in  terror,  for  JEHOVAH  called 
me  blest. 

Blessed  above  all  women,  in  Arab  tents  who 
roam, 

And  He  has  showered  down  blessings  upon  my 
happy  home; 

No  larger  herds,  no  swifter  steeds  feed  in  the  pas- 
tures round, 

No  fairer  children  than  my  own,  in  all  the  tribe 
are  found. 

And  a  loving,  faithful  wife,  I  have  ever  been,  and 

true, 
And  a  tender,  patient  mother,  oh,  my  children, 

unto  you ; — 
Yet  that  day  I  did  not  shrink  from  the  hammer 

and  the  nail, 
And  no  tenderness  nor  pity  made  my  dreadful 

purpose  fail. 


78  JAEL. 

When  GOD  revealed  to  Deborah  that  a  woman  it 

shouldNfoe 
Who,  from  their  cruel   bondage  the   Israelites 

should  free, 
I  shuddered  with  foreboding,  lest  I  should  be  the 

one, 
For  when  the  LORD  hath  spoken,  His  word   it 

must  be  done ! 


And  on  the  day  of  battle,  I  blest  GOD  that  far 
away 

From  my  husband's  tent,  the  armies  had  mar- 
shalled their  array  ; 

But  in  the  suitry  noon-tide,  as  I  stood  at  my  tent- 
door, 

A  man  came  rushing  onward,  begrimed  with 
dust  and  gore. 


'Twas  Sisera,  the  captain  of  the  Canaanitish  host, 
His  men  were  dead  or  scattered,  and  the  battle 

it  was  lost; 
He  asked  for  food  and  shelter,  and  oh,  I  tried  to 

say, 
"  Neither  shelter  nor  refreshment  of  a  woman  ask, 

this  day ! 


JAEL.  79 

Pass  on,  no  foe  so  dreadful  lurks  in  forest  or  in 

field ;" 
But  the  words  I  could  not  utter,  my  lips  seemed 

closely  sealed, 
And  something  in  my  bosom  said,  aiid  said  it  not 

in  vain, 
"  From  Heber's  tent-door,  Jael,  let  him  not  go  out 

again !" 

So  forlorn  he  looked  and  weary,  my  heart  with 

pity  bled, 
And  when  he  asked  for  water  I  gave  him  milk 

instead. 
I  spread  a  blanket  o'er  him,  and  promised  watch 

to  keep, 
And  from  weariness  and  sorrow  he  sank  away  to 

sleep. 

And  then,  I  cannot  tell  you  what  turned  my  heart 

to  stone, 
Nor  how  these  hands  could  do  it,  but  only — it  was 

done ! 
And  Israel  thenceforward  had  peace  throughout 

their  land, 
For   GOD   their   foe   delivered   into   a  woman's 

hand. 


80  JAEL. 

And  in  the  song  of  Barak  it  is  written  that  I,  Jael, 
Put  my  hand  unto  the  hammer,  my  right  hand 

to  the  nail, 
Therefore,  above  all  women,  this  woman  shall  be 

blest, 
Though  not  in  favored  Israel  she  builds  her  happy 

nest. 


My  children,  great  and  holy  is  the  GOD  of  Israel, 
And  happy  are  the  people  with  whom  He  deigns 

to  dwell ; 
And  we  too,  who   know  His  Name,  must   not 

shrink  from  His  command, 
Who  turned  to  steel  a  woman's  heart,  and  nerved 

a  woman's  hand ! 


But,  oh,  my  children !  I  will  pray  that  y our's  may 

never  be 
So  hard  a  task  as  that  to  which,  that  day,  He 

called  me ; 
GOD  grant  you  strength   to  do  His  will,  with 

hearts  as  firm  and  true, 
But  to  a  life  of  gentle  deeds,  I  trust,  He  calleth 

you. 


JAEL.  81 

When  I  am  dead,  I  know  they'll  say,  "  Her  heart 
was  cold  and  hard, 

And,  faithless  to  her  trusting  guest,  contempt  be 
her  reward ;" 

I  shall  not  heed  them,  when  these  hands  are  clasp- 
ed in  peaceful  rest, 

Since  for  the  bloody  work  they  did,  JEHOVAH 
called  me  blest ! 


82  THE    SOLDIERS    OF   THE    CROSS. 

®t)£  SoUriers  of  tlje  QTrcss. 

"  They  hungered  and  thirsted  for  Jerusalem  alone." — Old  Chronicle. 

OH,  brethren,  on  whose  forehead  was  made  the 
sacred  sign, 
That  marked  you  out  as  soldiers  in  a  warfare 

most  divine, 
Leave  your  pleasures   and  ambitions,  be  your 

quarrels  all  foregone, 

Ye  should  hunger  and  be  thirsty  for  Jerusalem 
alone; 

Let  no  flattery  beguile  you,  let  no  danger  you 
dismay, 

"  God  wills"  and  "  He  will  aid  us"  *  be  your  bat- 
tle cry  to-day ; 

Nor  count  your  conflicts  over,  till  the  citadel  is 
won, 

Ye  must  hunger  and  be  thirsty  for  Jerusalem 
alone. 

Alas,  how  many  soldiers  have  laid  the  cross  aside* 

Or  fought  for  earthly  kingdoms,  or  with  infidels 
allied ; 

Yet  some,  through  all  the  ages,  God  has  num- 
bered for  his  own, 

Who  hungered  and  who  thirsted  for  Jerusalem 
alone. 

*  "  Dieu  veut,  and  Dieu  aidera,"  the  battle-cry  of  the  Crusaders. 


THE    SOLDIERS   OF   THE    CROSS.  83 

There  are  souls,  and  ye  may  know  them  by  their 
upward  glance  serene, 

By  their  patience,  and  their  meekness,  and  their 
lowliness  of  mien, 

Who  danger,  pain  and  hardships,  yea  and  pleas- 
ure's wiles  have  known, 

Yet,  who  hunger  and  are  thirsty  for  Jerusalem 
alone ; 


They  pass  the  Golden  City,  and  the  desert's  burn- 
ing sand, 

And  Satan's  hosts  are  conquered,  in  Jerusalem 
they  stand  ; 

And  think  ye  that  among  them  regret  is  ever 
known, 

Who  hungered  once,  and  thirsted,  for  Jerusalem 
alone? 


Again  the  foe  is  rising  for  a  fiercer  battle  yet, 

Sound  the  trumpet,  lift  your  banner,  let  the  bat- 
tle ranks  be  set ! 

"Goo  wills,"  and  "He  will  aid  us,"  and  His 
saints  are  looking  on, 

Who  hungered,  and  who  thirsted  for  Jerusalem 
alone. 


84  THE   SOLDIERS   OF  THE   CROSS. 

Their  conflicts  all  are  over,  for  the  Cross  they 

bear  the  palm, 
For  the  battle-cry  they  shouted,  they  sing  the 

victor's  psalm ! 
GOD  grant  to  us  the  glory  to  stand  with  them 

round  His  throne, 
Who  hungered  and  who  thirsted  for  Jerusalem 

alone ! 


THE   LAND   OF   BEST.  85 

Stye  Ccmtr  0f  Kest. 

Heb.  iv.  g. 

FOR  "  there  remaineth  still  a  rest," 
Thus  speaks  the  Word  of  GOD  ; 
Peace,  by  no  anxious  cares  distrest, 
For  wounded  hearts  a  refuge  blest, 
Pardon,  for  souls  by  guilt  opprest, — 
Where  is  that  fair  abode  ? 

For  men  of  halcyon  isles  have  told, 

And  Gardens  of  the  Blest, 
Of  lands  whose  very  fruit  is  gold ; 
But  when  they  sought,  with  footsteps  bold, 
That  land,  came  Death,  the  tyrant  old, 

And  ended  all  their  quest. 

Our  sails  by  every  breeze  are  fanned, 

We  fly  on  wings  of  steam  ; 
No  more  the  haunted  forests  stand, 
Our  maps  have,  now,  no  unknown  land  ; 
But  yet  we  have  not  found  that  strand, 

The  Rest  whereof  we  dream ! 

The  sea  of  Time,  with  angry  roar, 

Casts,  ever,  at  our  feet 
The  ancient  arts,  the  mighty  lore 
Of  all  the  centuries  gone  before, 
Yet  for  this  single  secret  more 

We  may,  in  vain,  entreat ! 


86  THE   LAND    OF   REST. 

Oh,  'tis  no  earthly  Paradise, 

As  sing  the  poets  vain ; 
Faith  sees  it  shine  beyond  the  skies, 
Hope  fastens  there  her  longing  eyes, 
And  Love  with  eager  pinion  flies 

Her  native  air  to  gain ! 

No  sin,  nor  death  those  shores  affright, 

Nor  sorrow's  harpy  wing ; 
Sin  flies  before  that  holy  light, 
Death's  conqueror  reigns  in  glory  bright, 
And  sorrow  'mid  untold  delight 

Becomes  a  nameless  thing. 

But  what  if  we,  to  whom  is  given 

The  promise  of  such  bliss, 
Idly,  by  sin  and  passion  driven, 
Should  waste  the  powers  that  might  have  striven 
That  port  to  gain,  and  unforgiven, 

At  last  that  Rest  should  miss  ? 

There  streams  a  light  across  the  sea, 

We  need  not  blindly  roam  ; 
However  dark  the  night  may  be 
The  Cross  shines  out  divinely  free, — 
Yes,  storm-tossed  soul,  it  shines  for  thee, 

Oh,  let  it  guide  thee  home ! 


THE   ROSE    OF   JERICHO.  87 

®l)e  Ko0e  of  Sa:icl)0. 

This  is  a  very  curious  plant  which  grows  in  the  East,  by  the  road- 
side, in  the  crevices  of  the  houses,  on  rocks  and  in  the  desert,  seeming  to 
need  neither  moisture  nor  soil  for  its  growth  and  blossoming.  But  in  the 
Autumn  it  withers,  and  leaves  and  stem  curl  into  a  tight  ball.  In  this 
state  it  is  easily  uprooted  by  the  sirocco  which  carries  it  for  many  miles, 
and  at  last  drops  it  into  the  ocean.  There,  floating  on  the  waves,  it  draws 
in  the  moisture  it  has  lived  so  long  without ,  and  its  seeds  form  and  swell. 
It  is  then  cast  again  by  the  surf  on  the  shore,  and  the  seeds  scattered 
by  every  breeze. 

AND  was  it  not  enough  that,  meekly  growing, 
In  lack  of  all  things  wherein  plants  delight, 
Cool  dews,  rich  soil,  and  gentle  showers  refreshing, 
It  yet  could  blossom  into  beauty  bright  ? 

In  the  hot  desert,  in  the  rocky  crevice, 
By  dusty  waysides,  on  the  rubbish  heap, 

Where'er  the  Lord  appoints,  it  smiles  believing 
That  where  He  planteth,  He  will  surely  keep ! 

Nay,  this  is  not  enough,  the  fierce  sirocco 
Must  root  it  up,  and  sweep  it  from  its  home, 

And  bear  it  miles  away,  across  the  desert, 
Then  fling  it,  ruthless,  on  the  white  sea- foam. 

Do  they  thus  end,  those  lives  of  patient  duty, 
That  grow,  through  every  grief  and  pain  more 
fair, 

Are  they  thus  cast  aside,  at  length,  forgotten? 
Ah  no !  my  story  is  not  ended  there. — 


88  THE   ROSE   OF   JERICHO. 

Those  roots  upon  the  waves  of  ocean  floating, 
That  in  their  desert  homes  no  moisture  knew, 

Now,   at    the   Fount  their  life-long  thirst  are 

quenching, 
Whence  rise  the  gentle  shower,  the  nightly  dew. 

They  drink  the  quickening  streams  through  every 

fibre, 

Until  with  hidden  life  each  seed  shall  swell ; 
Then  come  the  winds  of  GOD,  His  word  fulfilling, 
And  bear  them  back,  where  He  shall  please  to 
dwell. 

Thus  live  meek  spirits,  duly  schooled  to  duty, — 
The  whirlwind    storm  may  sweep  them  from 
their  place, 

What  matter  if  by  that  affliction  driven 
Straight  to  their  GOD,  the  Fountain  of  all  grace? 

And  when,  at  length,  the  final  trial  cometh, 
Though  hurled  to  unknown  worlds,  they  shall 

not  die, 
Borne  not  by  winds  of  wrath,  but  GOD'S  own 

angels, 

They  feed  upon  His  love,  and  dwell  beneath 
His  eye. 


THE   ROSE    OF   JERICHO.  89 

Till  by  the  angel  of  the  resurrection 

One  awful  blast  through  heaven  and  earth  be 

blown. 

Then,  soul  and  body,  met  no  more  to  sunder 
That  all  GOD'S  ways  are  true  and  just  shall 
own ! 


90  JEHOVAH    SHAMMAH. 

JWjotwI)  Qljammal). 

Ezekiel  xlviii.  35. 

LONG  have  we  wandered,  far  and  wide, 
Nor  yet  those  shining  walls  descried, 
Oh,  for  some  guide,  to  show  us  where 
That  City  stands,  "  The  LOKD  is  there  !  " 

Its  walls  and  towers  are  manifold 

Its  gates  are  cedar  wrought  with  gold ; 

The  City  lies  an  even  square, 

Its  name  is  called  "  The  LORD  is  there." 

But  we  are  weary,  sore  distressed, 

And  soul  and  body  long  for  rest ; 

When  shall  we  reach  that  City  fair, 

Whose  name  is  called  "  The  LORD  is  there  ?  " 

"  That  City  is  of  heavenly  birth, 
And,  till  her  KING  return  to  earth, 
The  Bride  no  sceptred  rule  can  bear, 
No  city  call  '  The  LORD  is  there. '  " 

"  No  crown  her  widowed  brow  adorns, 
Her  LORD  wore  only  one  of  thorns, 
She  waits  for  Him  in  faith  and  prayer, 
Till  she  can  say, '  The  LORD  is  there  ?  ' " 


JEHOVAH    SHAMMAH.  91 

"  Wait  thou  in  patience  at  her  side, 
With  her,  in  poverty  abide, 
Ere  long  thou  shalt  her  triumph  share, 
And  gladly  cry  '  The  LORD  is  there ! '  " 

"  Then,  robed  and  crowned,  a  joyful  train, 

Her  children  hail  their  LORD  again, 

And  enter,  all,  the  City  fair, 

Whose  name  is  called, '  The  LORD  is  there ! '  " 


92  A   SUMMER   EVENING. 


&  Summer  (Setting. 

THE  mountains  rise  in  purple  gloom, 
Against  the  golden  sky, 
The  air  is  filled  with  faint  perfume, 
The  lengthening  shadows  lie 

O'er  new  mown  fields;  some  spell  has  hushed 

All  sound  of  beast  and  bird, 
Nor,  by  the  faintest  zephyr  moved, 

The  poplar  leaves  are  stirred. 

The  golden  light,  the  deepening  shade, 

The  silence  and  the  calm, 
Seem  for  the  weary  spirit  made, 

Like  drops  of  sweetest  balm. 

'Tis  but  a  moment, — soon,  again, 

From  every  bush  and  tree, 
The  birds  shall  chant  their  evening  strain, 

And  fill  the  air  with  glee. 

That  setting  sun  perhaps  may  rise 

'  Mid  showers  of  driving  rain, 
And  I  must  lift,  with  opening  eyes, 

My  daily  cross,  again ! 


A    SUMMER    EVENING.  93 

What  matter !  one  such  hour  as  this 
Gives  strength  to  do  and  bear  ; 

The  foretaste  of  the  heavenly  bliss, 
The  end  of  faith  and  prayer, 

That  golden  light  shall  never  fade, 

No  shadows,  there,  grow  long, 
And  if  a  hush  in  heaven  is  made 

'Tis  for  the  angel's  song ! 

LORD  JESUS,  be  my  strength, 
Though  toil  and  cares  increase, 

Till  'mid  the  evening  shades  at  last, 
My  soul  depart  in  peace. 


94  THE   GLORY   OF    MID-SUMMER. 


of  Jftib-Smnnter. 


"  The  grass  withereth,  the   flower  fadeth,  but  the  word  of  the  LORD 
atideth  forever."     i  Peter,  i,  24,  25. 

THE  glory  of  Mid-summer!  slow  ascending, 
The  year  attains  that  passion  of  delight, 
When  sun,  and  breeze,  and  shower,  their  influ- 

ence lending, 
Conduct  her  to  that  throne  so  soft  and  bright. 

The  glory  of  Mid-summer  !  quickly  waning 
The  music,  and  the  fragrance  and  the  glow, 

Of  all  her  pomp  not  one  faint  shred  remaining 
When   sleeps  the   earth   beneath  December's 
snow. 

The  glory  of  Mid-summer  !    weep  not  though  she 
dieth, 

For  fainting  hearts  the  lesson  is  not  vain, 
That  He,  who  all  this  fervid  life  supplieth, 

Brings  June  from  winter,  glory  out  of  pain  ! 

The  glory  of  Mid-summer  !  thus,  for  ages, 
The  seasons  fail  not,  though  the  earth  grows  old  ; 

And  Life  with  Death  a  ceaseless  conflict  wages, 
Each  gains  a  victory  that  it  cannot  hold. 


THE   GLORY   OF   MID-SUMMER.  95 

The  glory  of  Mid-summer,  eyes  that  love  her 
No  more  shall  look  upon  her  shining  bloom ; 

No  rays  can  pierce  the  clods  their  dust  that  cover, 
No  voice  of  birds  recall  them  from  the  tomb ! 

The  glory  of  Mid-summer !  briefly  smiling, 
Faint  image  of  the  heavenly,  endless  bliss, — 

Beware  lest,  earthly  joys  our  hearts  beguiling, 
We  grasp  the  shadow,  and  the  substance  miss. 


96      THE  DEATH  OF  THE  SUMMER. 

Stye  UJeatl)  0f  ttye  Summer. 

HOW  does  the  Summer  die  ? 
In  quiet,  slow  decay, 
Watching  with  weary,  languid  eye 
Her  glories  fade  away  ? — 

How  does  the  summer  die  ? — 
Mourning  her  lost  delights, 

Her  glorious  June,  her  strong  July, 
Her  August's  dewy  nights  ? — 

How  does  the  summer  die? — 
A  crowned  and  radiant  queen, 

With  glowing  cheek,  and  tearless  eye 
She  passes  from  the  scene ! 

It  had  been  hard  to  go, 

When  tender,  rosy  May 
Called  forth  her  blossoms  from  the  snow, 

And  smiled  the  frost  away. 

It  had  been  hard  to  go, 

When  June  with  song  and  flowers, 
And  all  of  bliss  that  earth  can  know, 

Crowded  the  raidant  hours. 


THE  DEATH  OF  THE  SUMMER.      97 

It  had  been  hard  to  go 

From  July's  life  intense, 
To  leave  the  light,  the  warmth,  the  glow 

That  quickens  every  sense  ! 

It  would  be  hard  to  go, 

When  fields  of  waving  grain, 

And  all  the  fruit  of  August  show 
She  has  not  lived  in  vain. 

But  now,  there  comes  a  breath 

Of  something  in  the  air, 
That  bids  her  not  for  life  but  death, 

Her  festive  robes  prepare ! 

She  answers  with  a  smile, 

I  am  content  saith  she, 
My  children  left  my  side  ere  while, 

What  has  earth  left  for  me  ? 

Oh,  skies  of  Autumn  weep, 

Oh  winds  of  Autumn  sigh, 
Since  bravely,  for  her  last  long  sleep, 

A  queen  lies  down  to  die ! 

Sept.  17,  1877. 


THE    BATTLE    OF   LEXINGTON. 


®l)e  Sattle  0f  Ce^ington. 

ONLY  a  lantern's  double  light, 
Only  a  horseman's  speedy  flight, 
Only  a  petty  village  fight, 

A  hundred  years  ago  ! 

They  had  no  thought  of  storied  fame, 
They  only  watched,  with  hearts  aflame, 
For  the  call  of  duty  when  it  came 

A  hundred  years  ago. 

Long  since  their  hearts  have  ceased  to  beat, 
Who  hung  the  lantern,  and  rode  so  fleet, 
And  fought,  at  morn,  in  the  village  street, 
A  hundred  years  ago. 

But  still  that  lantern  its  light  doth  pour, 
Still  echoes  that  shot  the  whole  world  o'er, 
Still  thrills  the  message  that  horseman  bore, 
A  hundred  years  ago  ! 

And  now,  with  cannon,  music  and  bell, 
Their  children's  children  meet  to  tell 
The  praise  of  those  who  fought  so  well, 
A  hundred  years  ago ! 


THE   BATTLE   OF   LEXINGTON. 


99 


But  oh,  let  them  think,  while  yet  they  may, 
That  the  deeds  they  work,  the  words  they  say, 
Shall  live  when  men  shall  call  to  day 
A  hundred  years  ago  ! 


100  A   DAY   IN   JUNE. 

31  JUag  in  Smte. 

Written,  June  s8th,  1877,  the  day  after  the  destruction  of  the  city  of 
St.  John,  N.  B.,  by  fire,  and  at  the  beginning  of  the  bloody  Russian 
campaign  of  that  year. 

A  meadow  sweet  with  the  new  mown  grass, 
Over  which  the  changing  shadows  pass 
Of  snow  clouds,  that  sail  the  sky, 
While  clear  the  distant  mountains  lie, 

In  glorious  June. 

The  fragrance,  the  light,  the  bursts  of  song, 
No  words  but  must  do  their  sweetness  wrong, 
The  tender  evening,  the  firefly's  light, 
The  softened  glow  of  a  moonlit  night 

In  glorious  June ! 

The  tramp  of  horses,  the  cannon's  roar, 
The  groans  of  the  wounded,  when  all  is  o'er, 
The  ghastly  piles  of  stiffening  dead, 
With  the  pale  moonlight  around  them  shed, 

In  glorious  June. 

A  spark,  a  smoke,  and  a  burst  of  flame, 
And  none  knows  how,  or  whence  it  came, 
But  the  city,  at  morning  so  gay  and  bright, 
In  ashes  lies  in  the  calm  moonlight 

Of  glorious  June. 


A    DAY  «>  7TL^E.  101 


Such  are  the  sights 
Such  joy  and  sorrow  the'great  earth  folds 
In  her  breast,  while  He,  who  sees  it  all, 
Marks  even  the  sparrows  when  they  fall, 

In  glorious  June. 

Thy  kingdom  come,  oh,  PRINCE  OF  PEACE, 
Return,  and  bid  such  horrors  cease  ! 
Then  earth  shall  smile  beneath  Thy  sway, 
As  in  one  long  and  perfect  day 

Of  glorious  June. 


102  INDEPENDENCE   BELL. 

Sell. 


July  4,  1876. 

TO-DAY  the  fathers  made  their  choice, 
Each  set  thereto  his  hand, 
Then  bid  me,  with  a  mighty  voice, 
Ring  Freedom  through  the  land  1 

And  now,  ten  thousand  cannons  roar, 

Ten  thousand  bells  are  rung, 
And  through  the  land,  from  shore  to  shore, 

Is  freedom's  banner  flung. 

'Tis  well,  oh  sons  of  patriot  sires, 

Your  fathers'  deeds  to  tell, 
And  light,  anew,  the  holy  fires 

They  kindled,  once,  so  well  I 

But  listen  —  and  let  fancy  bear 

A  warning  note  from  me, 
Though  borne  upon  the  startled  air 

No  more  my  voice  shall  be. 

Your  fathers'  lives  were  pure  and  true, 

We  honor  them  to-day  ;  — 
When  children's  children  speak  of  you, 

Are  such  the  words  they  '11  say  ? 


INDEPENDENCE   BELL.  103 

Think  not  that  chains  of  custom  bind, 

And  glory's  paths  are  few  ; 
The  hero's  heart  will  always  find 

A  hero's  work  to  do ! 

High  deeds  of  lofty  thoughts  are  born, 

Be  simple,  just  and  pure, 
And  treat  no  human  rights  with  scorn, 

So  shall  your  fame  be  sure. 

So,  linked  with  theirs  on  Honor's  page 
Your  names  inscribed  shall  be  ; 

While  other  bells,  from  age  to  age 
Proclaim,  this  land  is  free ! 


104  THE  NEW  ALCIDES. 


Lines  written  on  Dr,  Howe's  second  mission  to  Greece,  April,  1867. 

BLOW,  gently  blow,  oh,  western  gales  ! 
And  swiftly  on,  our  vessel  bear, 
The  smile  of  GOD  is  on  her  sails, 

Her  course  is  sped  by  many  a  prayer. 

Oh,  stormy  sea!  whose  angry  tide 

In  ebb  and  flow  can  find  no  rest, 
To  thee  our  treasure  we  confide, 

Oh,  bear  it  safely  on  thy  breast  :  — 

Then,  waft  our  ship,  thou  lovely  sea, 
Whose  tideless  waves  still  whisper  peace 

In  vain,  to  lands  that  are  not  free, 

And  bring  her  to  the  shores  of  Greece. 

Oh,  land  beloved  !  thine  ancient  fires, 

Though  smothered  long,  now  burn  once  more, 

Thy  sons  are  worthy  of  their  sires, 
For  thee  the  tyrant's  reign  is  o'er. 

But  when  your  need  was  sorest,  then 
A  greeting  came  from  o'er  the  seas, 

From  lands  beyond  your  fathers'  ken, 
Beyond  the  famed  Hesperides. 


THE   NEW  ALCIDES.  105 

We  sent  you  stores  of  food  and  gold, 

Nor  these  alone  ;  we  sent  to  you 
A  man  cast  in  heroic  mould, 

Fertile  to  plan,  and  brave  to  do. 

And  when,  at  last,  the  fight  was  won, 

Did  he  remain  to  wear  your  bays, 
Or  think  that  his  life-work  was  done, 

Even  in  those  great  and  glorious  days  ? 

Ah  no !  to  labor  for  his  kind, 

Back  to  New  England's  shores  he  came ; 
The  poor,  the  dumb,  the  slave,  the  blind, 

All  have  on  him  an  equal  claim. 

And  now,  when  to  their  mother-land, 
The  "  isles  of  Greece"  for  succor  cry, — 

Women  and  children  throng  thy  strand, 
Husbands  and  sons  remain  to  die ; — 

Again  we  send  you  food  and  gold, 
Again,  dear  Greece,  we  send  to  you 

Your  champion,  now  in  years  grown  old, 
In  heart  as  young,  as  brave  and  true ! 

Receive  him  !  on  the  golden  scroll 

Of  benefactors  of  the  race, 
Two  continents  his  name  enroll, 

And  give  to  him  a  foremost  place. 


106  THE   NEW  ALCIDES. 

Oh,  Crete !  thou  yet  shalt  overcome, 
As  surely  as  our  GOD  is  true, 

The  host  of  poor,  of  blind,  and  dumb 
"Who  pray  for  him,  will  pray  for  you ! 


THE   HOSPITAL   NURSE'S   STORY.          107 

®lje  Hospital  Nurses  Storg. 

NOT  a  murmur  past  his  dying  lips, 
Tho'  his  distress  was  sore  ; 
Far  from  his  mother  and  his  friends 

He  sleeps  in  Baltimore. 
A  widow's  only  son  was  he, 

And  only  just  sixteen, 
And  yet  he  died  that  cruel  death 
With  calmness  so  serene  ! 

He  called  me  to  his  side  that  night, 

He  knew  that  death  was  nigh, 
"  Come  sit  by  me,  awhile,"  he  said, 

"  Be  near  me  when  I  die  ; 
But  read  me  from  the  Holy  Book, 

Of  love  that  cannot  fail, 
Of  Him  who  my  kind  Shepherd  is, 

Who  lights  this  gloomy  vale." 

I  read  the  soothing,  solemn  words, 

My  voice  was  strong  and  clear, 
I  did  not  dare  to  weep,  while  I 

His  dying  hours  could  cheer. 
"  Now  pray  with  me,"  he  said,  but  this 

I  felt  I  could  not  do, 
For  such  a  saintly  soul  as  his 

No  words  of  mine  could  sue. 


108          THE   HOSPITAL   NURSE'S   STORY. 

He  took  his  little  Prayer-book  worn, 

That  lay  beneath  his  head, 
And  the  prayers  he  pointed  out  to  me 

I  knelt  by  him  and  read. 
Oh,  prayers  of  our  dear  mother, 

That  from  the  very  spring 
Beneath  GOD'S  throne,  in  life  and  death 

Such  strength  and  comfort  bring ! 

Then  he  told  me  of  his  mother, 

And  the  little  farm  that  he 
Had  bought  her  with  his  soldier-pay 

That  she  at  ease  might  be. 
Tell  her  not  to  sell  the  house  away, 

But  let  the  farm  instead, 
And  so  she  all  her  days  will  have 

A  shelter  for  her  head. 

"  Give  her  my  dying  love,  and  cut 

A  curl  from  her  boy's  hair ; 
And  now  you're  tired,  and  so  am  I, 

Lean  back  in  your  great  chair  ; 
I  too,  can  sleep  awhile,  I  think, 

But  let  me  hold  your  hand, 
I'll  press  it  when  I  need  you, — yes, 

I  see  you  understand. 


THE   HOSPITAL   NURSE'S    STORY.          109 

He  closed  his  eyes,  and  though  in  pain, 

Still  wore  that  peaceful  smile. 
Worn  out  with  watching,  and  with  grief, 

I  dozed  a  little  while ; — 
At  length  he  pressed  my  hand,  ah  me, 

I  saw  that  awful  look, 
That  shade  of  death,  upon  his  face, 

That  cannot  be  mistook  ! 

The  soldiers  in  the  beds  around, 

Though  rough,  and  brave  in  fight, 
Still  wept,  like  children,  as  they  watched 

The  dying  boy  that  night ; — 
He  never  murmured,  though  we  knew 

That  he  was  sore  distrest, 
But  ere  the  morning  dawned,  his  soul 

Had  entered  into  rest 

But  to  the  last  he  held  my  hand. 

Although  he  did  not  shrink 
From  death,  yet  human  love  he  craved 

To  lead  him  to  the  brink ; 
But  when  the  waters  o'er  him  closed, 

And  left  me  on  the  shore, 
He  clasped  a  Hand  Divine,  and  then 

He  needed  me  no  more! 

NOTE.    This  incident  is  related  almost  word  for 
word  as  it  was  told  me  by  the  nurse  herself. 


110       THE  CHILDREN  OF  LIGHT. 

Stye  OII)iItrren  of  £igf)t. 

WE  are  children  of  the  light, 
Climbing  np  to  Heaven's  height, 
Round  our  upward  faces  play 
Beams  of  everlasting  day. 

On  the  valley  lies  the  shade, 
By  the  awful  mountains  made, 
And  the  gloomy  shadows  keep 
The  dwellers  there  in  hopeless  sleep. 

But  upon  our  pathway  lies 
Light,  not  born  of  changing  skies ; 
Noonday  cloud,  and  shades  of  night 
Never  dim  that  heavenly  light. 

Ever,  in  the  west  there  shine 
Rays  from  Him  Whose  life  divine, 
Lived  on  earth  so  long  ago, 
Still  outvies  the  sunset  glow. 

In  the  east  a  faint,  pale  ray 
Proclaims  the  coming  of  the  day ; 
Brighter  glow  those  eastern  skies, 
Till,  at  length,  our  Sun  shall  rise. 


THE   CHILDREN   OF   LIGHT.  Ill 

Thus  the  light  of  Him  Who  died 
Ever  gilds  the  mountain  side ; 
With  the  hope  of  His  return 
The  mountain  tops  begin  to  burn. 

Thus  we  children  of  the  light, 
Marching  on  in  armor  bright, 
Singing,  climb  the  mountain  height, 
Praising  still  the  LORD  of  light : 

Saviour,  let  us  never  roam 
Where  Thy  glad  light  cannot  come 
Keep  us,  till  Thy  face  we  see, 
Where  no  night  can  ever  be  I 


112  THY   WILL   BE   DONE. 

ttJill  be  bone. 


will  be  done  !   oh,  words  too  hard 
JL     For  lips  to  form  of  stammering  clay, 
Only  a  power  divine  can  teach, 
Only  a  child-like  heart  can  say. 

It  must  be  done,  as  breaks  the  surf 
Upon  the  rock,  and  leaves  no  flaw, 

So  our  vain  hopes  and  wishes  beat 
Beat  vainly,  on  the  perfect  law. 

And  yet  there  is  a  bitter  joy 

To  feel  they  are  unconquered  still, 

And,  rushing  back,  they  surge  and  pour 
Through  the  dark  caverns  of  the  will. 

SAVIOUR,  Thine  is  the  might  divine 

To  tame  those  waves,  and  hush  their  roar, 

Till,  willing  slaves,  they  gently  lay 
Their  treasures  on  the  eternal  shore. 

Only  beneath  Thy  blood-stained  Cross 
Can  that  wild,  inward  conflict  cease  ; 

But  he  who  kneels  there,  and  resigns 
His  all  to  Thee,  finds  perfect  peace. 


TOGETHER  WITH  THE  LORD.     113 

Sogetljer  tmtl)  tfye  £or&. 

ist  Thess.,  iv.  17. 

"PiAUGHT  up  with  our  dear  LORD  to  be 
\J      Together  in  the  air"  ; — 
Oh,  rapt  Apostle !  didst  thou  see 
More  than  thy  words  declare  ? — 

More  than  the  hosts  of  angels  bright, 
And  saints  released  from  prison, 

More  than  the  morn  that  breaks  the  night 
When  CHRIST'S  redeemed  are  risen  ? — 

More  even  than  the  sight  most  dear 

To  our  awakening  eyes, 
When  CHRIST  shall  in  the  clouds  appear, 

To  meet  us  in  the  skies ! 

Couldst  thou  not  look  beyond,  above, 

Even  to  th'  Eternal  Throne, 
Where  we  shall  bow  in  awe  and  love, 

Knowing  as  we  are  known  ? 

Ah,  yes!  but  human  words  must  fail 

That  glory  to  reveal ; 
Thou  who  hast  looked  within  the  veil 

Must  yet  the  vision  seal. 


114      TOGETHER  WITH  THE  LORD. 

Yet  we,  with  bleeding  hearts  who  mourn, 

May  still  be  comforted, 
When  to  the  Holy  Book  we  turn, 
And  these  dear  words  are  read. 

Together, — with  the  LORD, — to  meet, 

And  nevermore  to  part, 
Oh,  strength  to  nerve  our  weary  feet, 

And  balm  to  heal  our  smart ! 

Together, — do  we  need  to  know 
Aught  more  of  heaven  than  this  ? 

Together  all  our  loves  shall  flow, 
Each  share  the  other's  bliss ! 

Together,  with  our  present  LORD, 

Whom  now  we  love,  although  unseen, 
Upon  our  hearts  we  '11  bind  this  word, 

And  on  this  precious  promise  lean. 

•P 
Forevermore,  forevermore, 

Together  with  the  LORD,  to  be ! 
My  soul,  repeat  it  o'er  and  o'er, 

For  it  is  more  than  life  to  thee. 

In  the  air,  in  the  air, 

Caught  up  our  dear  LORD  to  see, 
We  need  to  ask  no  more,  for  there 

With  them, — in  Him, — our  heaven  must  be! 


SEA   MOSSES.  115 


Qea 


rpHESE  flowers,  so  beautiful  and  graceful  grew 
JL     In  gladness  far  beneath  the  ocean  wave, 
Safe  from  all  human  touch,  all  human  view, 
Or  hid  deep  fathoms,  in  some  dark  sea  cave. 


And  as  I  gaze  on  them  I  fain  would  be, 

In  those  deep  grots'  so  beautiful  and  strange, 

And  in  those  sunless  gardens  of  the  sea, 
My  longing  spirit,  willingly,  would  range. 

Who  would  have  thought  the  dark  and  stormy 
ocean, 

Could  hold  such  fragile  beauty  in  its  breast, 
Or,  that,  beneath  that  wild  commotion 

Such  depths  of  peace  and  blessedness  could  rest. 


Yet,  there  they  dwell  secure  beneath  His  eye, 
Who  made  them  in  their  light  and  feathery 
grace, 

Safe  and  unharmed,  below  the  storm  they  lie, 
His  loving  care  doth  all  His  works  embrace. 


116  SEA   MOSSES. 

But  sometimes,  from  those  ocean  chambers  vast, 
Of  which  the  upper  waters  are  the  beam, 

A  few  fair  flowers  are  to  the  surface  cast, 
To  tell  of  worlds  beyond  our  wildest  dream. 

And  so,  beneath  the  din  of  human  passion, 
Where  vice  and  folly  seem  to  dwell  alone, 

Amid  the  hollow  show  and  glare  of  fashion, 
A  world  lies  hid,  by  all  but  GOD  unknown  : — 

Flowers  of  humility,  mid  pomp  and  pride, 
Of  warm  devotion  even  in  Satan's  seat, 

Of  virtue  in  a  court  all  foul  beside, 

Of  love  and  prayer  hid  in  some  safe  retreat. 

These  bloom  unseen  by  all,  save  Him  alone ; 

Safe  and  secure,  beneath  His  care  they  lie, 
Yet,  sometimes,  on  the  upper  surface  thrown, 

We  gaze  upon  them  with  delighted  eye. 

They  teach  us,  there's  no  place  by  GOD  forsaken, 
However  foul  and  dark  some  spots  may  seem  : 

And  where  He  is,  such  flowers  may  bloom  un- 
shaken, 
Fed  by  His  smile,  rejoicing  in  His  beam. 


MEMORIAL   HALL.  117 

JlUmorial  41) all,  (iEambnirge. 

Dulce  et  decorum  pro  patria  mori. 

THEY  came  forth  from  their  studies,  and  from 
their  boyish  play ; 
What  magic  spell  transformed  them  to  heroes  in 

one  day  ? 
What  fed  the  fire  that  glowed  so  bright,  the  pulse 

that  beat  so  high, 

How  knew  they  for  their  country  't  was  so  beau- 
tiful to  die  ?         • 

Oh,  not  from  ancient  tales  of  Roman,  or  of  Greek, 
Was  caught  the  patriotic  glow  that  mantled  every 

cheek ; — 
But  from  that  granite  shaft,*  rising  clear  against 

the  sky, 
They  learned  that  for  their  country  'twould  be 

beautiful  to  die. 

And  as,  day  by  day,  they  entered  the  ancient 

college  halls, 
The  faces  of  their  patriot  sires  looked  on  them 

from  the  walls ; 
And,  face  to  face,  and  heart  to  heart,  from  such 

communings  high, 
They  learned  that  for  their  country  'twould  be 

beautiful  to  die. 

*  Bunker  Hill  Monument. 


118  MEMORIAL   HALL. 

Not  theirs  the  meed  that  cometh  from  Science  or 

from  Art, 
No  Class-Day  or  Commencement  to  them  assigned 

a  part ; 
Yet  on  the  list  of  honors  their  names  are  written 

high, 
Who  knew  that  for  their  country  't  was  beautiful 

to  die. 

They  sought  not  fame  no$  glory,  but  by  the  simple 
ways 

Of  patient,  faithful  duty  they  won  their  deathless 
bays: 

Not  always  theirs  to  conquer,  but  always  theirs 
to  try, 

And  always,  for  their  country,  't  would  be  beau- 
tiful to  die ! 

Then  build  the  massive  walls,  and  the  noble  pile 

uprear, 
And  grave  their  names  on  tablets  white,  in  letters 

black  and  clear ; 
And,  Harvard,  teach  thy  children  this  science, 

pure  and  high, 
For  GOD  and  for  your  country  live,  for  GOD  and 

country  die! 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


PART  I. 

The  Christian  Year 5 

Advent 8 

The  Prisoners  of  Hope 10 

The  Wisdom  of  this  World 12 

The  Epiphany  Star 14 

Christ  in  the  Temple 16 

Ash  Wednesday 18 

Palm  Sunday 20 

Easter  Lilies 21 

Easter  Day 23 

Ascension  Day 25 

Whitsun-Day,  Vesta's  Altar 27 

Trinity  Sunday,  The  Twofold  Witness 29 

Collect  for  Fourth  Sunday  after  Trinity 31 

Collect  for  Eighth  Sunday  after  Trinity 33 

St.  Michael  and  All  Angels 34 

The  Ministry  of  Angels 37 

The  Vigil  of  All  Saints 39 

The  Last  Night  of  the  Year 42 

PART  II. 

The  Golden  Legend 47 

Morituri  te  Salutant 52 

Loss  of  the  Adrian  Capel 54 

The  Haven  of  Rest 59 

The  Building  the  Walls 61 


120  TABLE    OF   CONTENTS. 

St.  Bernard  and  the  Historian,  Gibbon . .  ta 63 

Pilate's  Stairs 66 

Rome,  above  and  below 68 

The  Pastor's  Tale 70 

In  the  Wilderness 75 

Jael 77 

The  Soldiers  of  the  Cross 82 

The  Land  of  Rest 85 

The  Rose  of  Jericho 87 

Jehovah  Shammah 90 

A  Summer  Evening 92 

The  Glory  of  Mid-Summer 94 

Death  of  the  Summer , 96 

The  Battle  of  Lexington  0 98 

A  Day  in  June 100 

Independence  Bell  102 

The  New  Alcides 104 

The  Hospital  Nurse's  Story 107 

The  Children  of  the  Light 110 

Thy  will  be  done 112 

Together  with  the  Lord 113 

Sea  Mosses 115 

Memorial  Hall,  Cambridge 117 


NOTE. 

ERRATUM. — page  50,  last  verse,  for  "hanging,"  read  "  reigning." 
This  is  a  quotation  from  the  Septuagint  translation  of  the  loth  verse 
of  the  xcvi  Ps.  which  in  that  version  runs,  "  Tell  it  out  among  the 
heathen  that  the  Lord  reigneth  from  the  tree,"  and  this  was  supposed  to 
be  a  prophecy  of  the  Messiah.  See  Dr.  J.  M.  Neale's  Hymns  of  the 
Eastern  Church. 


M 


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